


The Archer and The Squire

by expectingtofly



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Robin Hood Fusion, Angst, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Falling in Love, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel is a squire, Childhood Trauma, Eventual mild smut, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Touch-Shy Castiel, Touch-Starved Castiel (Supernatural), a mix of supernatural and robin hood characters, and Dean is...?, but no explicit or sexual trauma, inspired by The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood by Howard Pyle, so expect historical accuracy with some leeway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:27:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 84,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24631540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/expectingtofly/pseuds/expectingtofly
Summary: It’s the year 1192. Prince John is in power, the Sheriff of Nottingham does his dirty work, and tales are spreading of an outlaw called “the Hood” who not even the Sheriff can stop. Amidst the turmoil, Castiel is resigned to his life as a squire in Nottingham Castle. He keeps his head down, does his work, and tries to forget about his life before becoming a squire.Then Castiel meets a charming, yet mysterious archer who he just can’t get out of his head, and who makes him wonder if life outside the castle might be worth exploring. Expect archery competitions, secret identities, robberies, and romance :)Castiel watched the archer in green. He was still speaking to his companions behind him as he notched his arrow. When the call of a bugle signaled to shoot, the archer, in one motion, seemingly without any thought, lifted his bow, pulled back the string, and released the arrow. Castiel looked at his target. It seemed he’d struck exactly center.The handsome archer smiled at the crowd and glanced in Castiel’s direction. His eyes met Castiel's for a brief instant and Castiel flushed and looked away.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 110
Kudos: 125





	1. Part 1: Nottingham

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited to post this story bc _The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood_ has been one of my favorite books since i was little (not to mention the disney animated movie is perfection). While re-reading _Robin Hood_ recently, I realized it was great material for a destiel AU... and this fic happened. I hope you enjoy it :))
> 
> lots and lots of thanks to [heylittleangel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heylittleangel/pseuds/heylittleangel) for beta-reading (go check out her fics, they're great!)
> 
> *posted twice a week, Sundays and Wednesdays, June 14-Aug 19, 2020*

Castiel scraped mud—or what he hoped was mud—off the hooves of Sir Ishim’s horse Scarlet. The sun beat down on his bent head and neck, and sounds of activity filled the castle yard. Several knights, including Sir Ishim, the knight Castiel was assigned to as a squire, had just returned from a trip into Nottingham. Scarlet needed to be fed and brushed down, then Castiel had to go into the kitchen and help serve food before his day’s duties were done. 

Letting down Scarlet’s hoof, Castiel led her to the watering trough next to the well.

“Hey, Cas!”

Castiel looked up from lowering the bucket into the well to see Gabriel walking over. Gabriel leaned on the well. “Still doing this shit, huh?”

“Not everyone is as lucky as you.” Castiel pulled up the bucket and tipped it over into the trough. Scarlet, who Castiel had named since Sir Ishim seemed uninterested in doing so, stepped forward and plunged her nose into the water. 

Gabriel grinned. His knight had been laid up for the past week with a leg injury from a duel, lessening Gabriel’s workload. “Ready for tonight? I spoke to one of the guards and he agreed to let us out and back in if we bring him ale.”

Castiel looked over at the castle yard gates. It was May Day and all of Nottingham would be bustling in preparation for the festivities. Only favored squires, however, were allowed to attend the celebration and, not surprisingly, Castiel and Gabriel didn’t make the cut. Of course, that didn’t stop Gabriel from going anyway.

“We probably shouldn’t fuel his drinking problem,” Castiel said. 

Gabriel laughed. “Find a better excuse. You’re not getting out of this.” 

Castiel sighed and wiped his hands on his tunic. “If we get caught again…”

“Are you still sore about that? So what? We got locked in the pen for a day and Sir Thaddeus thinks we learned our lesson. He won’t expect us to leave again tonight, so soon after.” Gabriel hit Castiel’s shoulder. “Don’t look so doom and gloom about it, you know you wanna go.” 

Castiel sighed. He grabbed Scarlet’s reins and started walking to the stable. 

“After dinner! At the stable!” Gabriel called after him. Castiel waved dismissively at him.

After taking care of Scarlet and realizing that the sun was hanging low in the sky, Castiel ran across the yard and into the castle. His footsteps echoed in the cool, stone interior and he plunged into the aromatic kitchen. He dodged another squire carrying a platter of bread rolls into the Great Hall and bent over the large bucket in the corner to splash water onto his hands.

“They’ve already started eating,” Donna, the main cook, called from where she attended to a steaming pot hanging over the fire. She wiped sweat from her face with the back of her hand and pointed to a large bowl on a table stacked with food. Castiel picked up the bowl of stew, wincing at how hot it was. 

“You’ve got dirt there,” one of the young servants, Hannah, said. She paused from chopping carrots to point at Castiel’s chin with her knife.

Castiel rubbed his chin with his shoulder and she nodded. He walked out of the kitchen into the hallway, careful not to spill stew over the sides of the bowl. 

Squire Theo stepped out of the door to the Great Hall and, noticing Castiel, held it open. “Place that near Sir Bartholomew,” he whispered. “He’s bitching about having to wait.”

Walking inside the Hall, Castiel spotted Sir Bartholomew sitting against the left wall, his foot propped up on the bench. At his side stood Gabriel pouring wine into his goblet. Gabriel caught Castiel’s eye and nearly imperceptibly rolled his eyes. 

Castiel set the bowl down in front of Sir Bartholomew and gratefully let go of the scalding sides. Sir Bartholomew straightened. “Finally!” he exclaimed. “I swear, dinner starts later every evening.” He looked over his shoulder at Gabriel. “Set that pitcher down, boy, and fill up my bowl.” Gabriel gave Castiel a look and Castiel turned away before he started laughing.

He saw Sir Ishim across the room and went to his side, standing back but waiting for when he’d be needed. The Great Hall seemed to echo more with talk and laughter now that only the knights filled it. With the Sheriff of Nottingham gone and the ladies of the court spending the month in Lincoln, the front of the Great Hall was left empty of its usual raised chairs and tables for the nobility.

Watching the knights tear into their meal, Castiel's stomach growled. He hoped that the knights would be tired after their trip and leave quickly, not stay long at the tables talking as the remaining scraps of food cooled and flies flitted over what was left for the squires to eat.

Sir Ishim held out his goblet and Castiel stepped forward to grab a pitcher and fill it. “Another robbery in Sherwood Forest,” he was saying to the knights closest to him. “Duke of Gisbourne was robbed this time. Says it was that outlaw everyone’s been going on about.”

“The Hood?” Sir Eliott asked. 

Sir Ishim nodded. “Stole nearly everything the Duke was traveling with, even the Duchesses’ jewelry. The Duke says they barely escaped with their lives.” 

Castiel set down the pitcher and stepped back only a little, trying to hear the conversation.

Sir Barnabus set his goblet down heavily. “He’s a coward, that outlaw, hiding his face under a hood! The Sheriff should send us after him. We’ll see to it that he hangs.”

Their talk turned elsewhere, but Castiel wanted to hear more of the Hood. Several months ago, reports began spreading of a hooded outlaw who robbed traveling nobility and priests, and now it seemed he was all that anyone talked about. An outlaw wasn’t unique news, exactly, except for how successful this one was. No one knew anything about him, and if the rumors were to be believed, he had a dozen men at his side. 

One of Castiel's fellow squires, Balthazar, stepped closer to him, holding a pitcher of ale. “I heard you and Gabriel are planning on going into town tonight?” he whispered. Castiel nodded, keeping an eye on the knights. They were roaring with laughter at some jest Sir Bartholomew had made. “Can I come along?”

“If you want.” Castiel wondered how many squires Gabriel had told. “But don’t tell anyone else, alright? We’ll get caught if there’s a whole group of us.”

“Sure, no problem.” Balthazar leaned closer conspiratorially. “I heard there’s gonna be a Maypole dance with all the maidens.” Grinning, he nudged Castiel with his elbow and Castiel pretended to be interested. Seemed like every time they went into Nottingham, Gabriel and the other squires found a group of maidens to talk to and tease. Not that Castiel cared too much; it was nice anyway to get away from the castle and all their rules and duties. 

After the knights finally finished eating and left the Hall, Castiel ate with the rest of the squires and helped clean up. Then he made his way to the yard and stood in the shadow of the stable. He could hear the horses inside brushing up against their stalls and the rush of wings as, across the yard, a flock of birds suddenly alighted from the surrounding castle walls, black shapes against the purple sky. 

Gabriel and Balthazar joined him at the stable and Gabriel bounced on the balls of his feet, scanning the yard. “Just have to wait for Michael.” 

“Michael’s coming too?” Castiel asked.

“The more the merrier!” Gabriel laughed at the look on Castiel’s face. “Get that stick out of your ass, Cas, it’s time for some fun.”

“I wonder if Angela will be there,” Balthazar said. 

“Oh she will be.” Gabriel grinned. “And Hael, and Harper. You’re gonna have your hands full if they all show up at once.”

Castiel was grateful to see Michael approaching. He pushed himself off the stable wall. “Alright, let’s go,” he said. 

The guard looked at them sternly when they walked up to the castle gatehouse. “You boys remember our agreement.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll get your payment,” Gabriel said. 

The guard stepped aside to let them through and with a look behind him to ensure no one was watching, Castiel followed the others across the drawbridge. 

The outskirts of Nottingham were full of townsfolk headed to the center of town: families with young children, merchants trying to sell their wares, even friars who frowned on the merrymaking. Castiel heard a loud voice and spotted a yeoman standing on the stoop of a house, surrounded by a group of rapt listeners. 

“I rounded the bend and there they were!” the yeomen cried. “The Hood and his band!”

Castiel paused at "the Hood," and Gabriel and the others stopped with him. Moving closer to the edge of the growing audience, Castiel listened as the yeoman continued, “The Hood was holding a knife to the Duchess’ neck, telling her to relinquish her diamonds, and his outlaws were grabbing luggage from the carriages.”

“Yeah, right, he was there,” Gabriel said to Castiel. He raised his voice. “And what did you do, good sir?”

The yeoman looked at Gabriel and a look of disgust passed over his face. “Why,” he started lightly, “I hid behind a tree to gather myself and plan how to intervene. But I was too late because all of a sudden, the Hood and his band took off and disappeared into the forest without a trace. I went to the Duchess’ side then and helped her up. She thanked me…”

“Total bullshit,” Gabriel declared and they kept walking.

“You really think the Hood almost killed the Duke and Duchess?” Castiel asked as they made their way down the narrow streets.

“Why not?” Michael said. “I’m surprised he didn’t. He must have known they’d only report the crime.”

“I heard Prince John wants the Sheriff to send more knights after him,” Balthazar added. 

“Maybe we’ll get to go,” Gabriel said. “I’d love to see this Hood. He can’t be _all_ that.”

They reached the town square where crowds jostled each other and rows of barrels of ale stood next to long tables of food. 

“Wait right here,” Gabriel said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He disappeared into the crowds and reemerged moments later with two mugs of ale. 

“How the hell did you steal that so fast?” Michael asked. 

“Seduced the alewife selling it,” Gabriel said, taking a drink from one. He held out the other to Castiel and, when Castiel shook his head, rolled his eyes and passed it to Michael.

“There’s the Maypole,” Balthazar said, standing on his tiptoes to peer over the heads of the crowds. “Wonder if the dance already happened.” 

Castiel stepped back to avoid the steady flow of people streaming past him and almost stepped on someone’s foot. He noticed Zachariah and Rafael, two squires lucky enough to be allowed to leave the castle, making their way into the square. “Can we stand somewhere else?” he began to ask.

“The archery contest is about to start!” Gabriel exclaimed, “Come on, let’s get a better view.” He plunged deeper into the crowd and, reluctantly, Castiel followed. 

They found a place to stand halfway between the targets on one side of the square and the archers lining up across from them. There were twelve archers. Four of them were knights Castiel recognized and who were too far away—he hoped—to notice him, Gabriel, and the other squires. The last archer in line, closest to the side Castiel and his friends stood on, was the youngest of the contestants, looking to be about their own age. He was handsome, dressed in forest green, and was talking to two other young men in the crowd, one of whom was tall enough to tower over everyone else. 

“All archers, ready your bows!” someone called, startling Castiel. A man stood in front of the targets and he waited for the crowd to quiet before continuing. “Archers will shoot once at my signal, and the six who perform best will shoot again. The three best from that group will then compete to find a winner.” He held up a small purse. “Best archer will win a prize.” Castiel watched the handsome young archer inspect an arrow. “Ready archers?” The announcer stepped aside and the archers raised their bows, fitting the arrows to their strings. 

Castiel watched the archer in green. He was still speaking to his companions behind him as he notched his arrow. When the call of a bugle signaled to shoot, the archer, in one motion, seemingly without any thought, lifted his bow, pulled back the string, and released the arrow. Castiel looked at his target. It seemed he’d struck exactly center.

The crowd cheered and Castiel clapped along as the man who had announced the competition stepped forward with three others to inspect the targets.

“I hope Sir Eliott missed the target,” Gabriel said cheerfully. 

“Shh,” Castiel cautioned. He studied the targets. “I think that one archer got a bullseye.”

“Who?” Balthazar asked. Castiel pointed to the archer in green. Sure enough, as the judges narrowed down the twelve archers to six, the archer in green remained. 

Gabriel cheered seeing Sir Eliott leave the lineup and even Castiel had to smile; Sir Eliott was boastful of his abilities but everyone knew he preferred drinking to practice. Sir Eliott lurched away angrily from the other archers and the judges retreated to the edges of the square.

“The archers will now shoot individually at their same targets!” the announcer called. He gestured to the first man in line, Sir Ramiel. The knight lifted his bow and, after a moment of study, released his arrow. 

“A hairsbreadth to the left of center!” one of the judges called, stepping forward to inspect the target. The crowd cheered.

“I bet I could do that,” Gabriel said. 

“Right,” Castiel said. “Why don’t you step up there and show us your skills then.”

“I don’t need the attention,” Gabriel said, taking a drink from his ale.

“He wasn’t holding the shaft correctly,” Balthazar explained. “That’s why he missed center.” Gabriel snickered and nudged Michael. “What?” Balthazar asked. Then he realized why Gabriel and Michael were laughing and rolled his eyes. Castiel stifled a laugh.

The next four archers took their turns. Most matched Sir Ramiel’s performance, though one yeoman struck a bullseye, prompting loud cheers. The archer in green was next. 

“This is boring,” Gabriel said. “He already has a bullseye, he’s just going to hit the target as close as possible to his first arrow.”

The archer in green grabbed an arrow, ran his fingers through the feathers, then fit it to his bow. He pulled back the string, paused for a moment, and then the arrow struck the target with a crack. No, Castiel realized, the crack wasn’t from hitting the target. He stared in amazement as he realized this second arrow had split the first in two to strike the center again. There was a moment of stillness as everyone also realized this fact, then the square erupted in cheers and yells.

“Holy shit!” Gabriel cried. The handsome archer’s companions cheered the loudest, going to the archer to smack him on the back and congratulate him.

“He hardly even looked at the target!” Balthazar yelled. “How the hell did he do that?”

The handsome archer smiled at the crowd and glanced in Castiel’s direction. His eyes met Castiel's for a brief instant, and Castiel flushed and looked away. 

The announcer motioned for everyone to quiet down, though he looked as shocked as anyone. When the crowd had settled enough, he and the judges chose the three best archers from the second round: Sir Ramiel, the yeoman who had struck a bullseye, and, of course, the archer in green.

“They’re going to keep shooting?” Michael asked incredulously. “How can anyone compete with that?”

Sir Ramiel stepped forward, a peeved look on his face. Castiel knew he couldn’t be too keen on being bested by two commoners, but he’d seen enough archery practice among the knights to also know Sir Ramiel was too competitive to admit defeat. 

Sir Ramiel held his bow aloft for several seconds before releasing the arrow, and it struck well outside center. Throwing his bow down in disgust, he walked away. Some people jeered, but the announcer and the judges clapped loudly, inciting the crowd to join. Gabriel chuckled and Castiel hit him in the ribs with his elbow. 

The yeoman archer shook his head good-naturedly, saying something Castiel couldn’t hear to the handsome archer. His arrow lodged right above his second and the crowd clapped. Then it grew quiet as they waited for the archer in green to shoot.

“He’s already won,” Michael said in a low voice. “He could shoot one of the windows up there and it wouldn’t matter.”

Castiel shushed him, watching as the archer in green lifted his bow, aimed at his target, then suddenly shifted and shot at the yeoman’s target next to him.

The crowd roared even louder than before. Gabriel jumped up and down. “He did it again!” he yelled. Castiel couldn’t believe it—the archer in green had split the yeoman’s bullseye arrow down the center. 

The announcer and judges studied the target with mystified looks on their faces, and Castiel was nearly knocked over by the excitement of the spectators around him, not the least by Gabriel. 

The announcer went to the archer in green and shook his hand. He tried to announce something but the crowd’s cheers drowned out anything he was saying. The archer in green took his winnings and glanced again in Castiel’s direction—or Castiel thought he did, but before he could be sure, the crowd swarmed around the archer and hid him from Castiel’s sight.

“That was incredible,” Balthazar said. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“I don’t think anyone has.” Gabriel looked down at his mug which he had continued holding during the chaos. “Oh shit, I spilled my whole drink. Let’s get more while everyone’s distracted.”

“Wait,” Michael said. “There’s Sir Barnabus and Sir Ishim.” 

“Where?” Castiel craned his neck to see and spotted the knights standing next to the targets. They were talking to each other while casting annoyed looks at the crowd congratulating the archer in green.

“Let’s get out of here,” Balthazar said, pushing his way through the crowds in the opposite direction. 

They escaped the crowd, pausing just long enough for Gabriel and Michael to grab more ale before going down a side street. They stopped at a crook in the street where it branched off in three directions and the houses fell back enough to allow room for a well. A low stone wall and archway marked the entrance to one street and Castiel sat on the wall. Gabriel offered him one of the three mugs he was holding and Castiel took it. His heart still pounded from the excitement of the archery contest.

“This has been some May Day, huh?” Gabriel remarked, sitting next to Castiel and setting the other two mugs down on the ground. “Aren’t you glad we came tonight?”

“Yes,” Castiel admitted. He took a drink from the mug and grimaced at the taste.

“But the real question is, where are all the girls?” Balthazar asked. 

Gabriel raised his mug. “There’s someone using his head.”

“I don’t think that’s what he’s thinking with,” Castiel muttered and Gabriel burst out laughing.

Music bled in from the general commotion of the town square. The houses cast long shadows on the street and Castiel looked up at the now dark blue sky as Gabriel and Balthazar argued about which maidens they would see tonight.

“Hey, it’s that archer,” Michael said and Castiel looked down the street leading to the square. The archer in green was walking in their direction with his two companions.

“Hey there!” Gabriel called. “Hell of a show back there.”

“Thanks,” the handsome archer said. He looked at Castiel and recognition seemed to flash across his face. Castiel flushed.

“How’d you ever escape from all the crowds?” Balthazar asked. 

The archer laughed. “Wasn’t an easy task. Mind if we join you?” His eyes flitted towards Castiel again.

“Sit right down,” Gabriel said. “We’ve got plenty of ale to go around. I’m Gabriel. This is Castiel, Michael, and Balthazar.” He pointed to them in turn and Castiel ducked his head to drink from his mug.

“I’m Dean,” the archer said. “This here is Little John.” His tall companion raised his hand in greeting and Dean pointed to the other. “And Benny.”

“Little?” Gabriel asked and the amusingly named Little John rolled his eyes.

“It’s John Little,” he said. “but my friends find it funny to call me otherwise. An unfortunate nickname.” 

The handsome archer— _Dean_ , Castiel thought—grinned. “And yet it stuck,” he said.

“You all live here in town?” Benny asked. Little John settled down on the ground and took one of the mugs Gabriel offered him.

“Sort of,” Michael spoke up. “We’re squires, we live at the castle.”

Dean gestured to his companions. “This is our first time in Nottingham and we’re trying to figure out where to stay the night.”

“There’s a few inns down that way,” Castiel spoke up, pointing to a street leading west and trying to act casual despite the fact that every time Dean glanced at him his heart skipped a beat.

“Now that’s more like it,” Little John said. “If I have to sleep on the ground one more time…”

“Where can we get some food?” Dean asked. He looked around. “Where are all the taverns?”

“There’s food in the square,” Balthazar answered.

Benny said, “I’ll go back and grab some.” 

“You do that,” Little John said. “Grab enough to feed ten of us.” 

Dean passed Benny the small cloth bag full of his winnings from the archery competition. “Grab some for our new friends here as well.”

Benny walked off down the street and Dean looked between Little John sitting on the ground and Castiel. He sat next to Castiel on the wall and Castiel scooched back, startled.

Leaning his bow and quiver against the wall, Dean stretched his legs. “Phew, I’m exhausted. We’ve been traveling all day.”

“Where you traveling from?” Gabriel asked.

“Chesterfield is the last large town we stayed in.”

“Did you have to travel through Sherwood Forest?” Castiel asked. 

Dean looked at him and Castiel noticed his eyes were green. “Yes, we did.”

“That’s where the Hood was last seen,” Balthazar said. “Everyone’s been talking about it. He robbed the Duke of Gisbourne.”

“Did he now?” Dean asked. 

“You said you all are squires?” Little John asked. “Any knights out searching for the Hood?”

“The Sheriff just left this morning with five knights,” Gabriel said. “I think they’re headed towards Ancaster.” Michael gave him a warning look. The Sheriff had left covertly, probably hoping to catch the Hood unawares, and only those in the castle knew where he was headed.

“They’ll catch the bastard soon enough,” Balthazar said. “He can’t keep evading the law like this for long.”

“I like the guy,” Gabriel said, throwing stones at a nearby house. “Scaring all the rich folk, getting the Sheriff into a fit.” He looked up and saw them staring at him. “What? We’re all friendly here. I can’t speak my mind about the Sheriff?”

Little John started laughing. “I like the Hood too,” he said. “He doesn’t seem half bad.” 

Dean grinned too. He looked at Castiel. “What do you think, Castiel?”

Castiel reddened at hearing Dean say his name. So he had remembered it. “I don’t know,” he started. “I’ve heard he shares his spoils with the poor. If that’s true, then he doesn’t sound _as_ dangerous as the Sheriff says.”

“You really believe that?” Michael asked. “I doubt he’s sharing anything. He’s going to be as rich as any baron or duke soon enough.” 

Benny returned, arms full with food and ale, and Dean stood to grab food from him. 

“You gotta be careful, saying things like that about the Sheriff,” Castiel said aside to Gabriel. “We work for him, you know.”

“He isn’t here, is he?” Gabriel gestured to where they sat. “I may work for him, but I don’t have to sing his praises like everyone else pretends to.” Michael frowned at them.

Dean sat back down next to Castiel and tore into a loaf of bread. Gabriel gave Castiel a look and mouthed, _talk to him_. Castiel sighed. Sometimes he wished Gabriel didn't know so much; Gabriel was the only one who understood why Castiel never joined in on any of his and the other squires' talk about maidens and dames. More than understanding, Gabriel had made it his personal mission to set Castiel up with someone, anyone, of the male species ever since Castiel had unfortunately disclosed that he was woefully inexperienced.

Rolling his eyes at Castiel, Gabriel asked Dean, “So, where are you headed?”

Dean glanced at his companions. Little John was telling Michael and Balthazar a story that Castiel couldn’t believe was real, of a robbery he had witnessed. Benny chimed in with details. 

“Nowhere in particular,” Dean said. “We travel around.”

“No families?” Gabriel asked. "Wives, lovers?" Castiel shot Gabriel a look.

Dean looked amused. “None to speak of.”

“Where’d you learn to shoot like you did?” Castiel asked to change the subject. He ignored Gabriel's triumphant look in his direction.

“Practice.” Dean took a drink of ale. “And plenty of luck, I suppose.”

“We always have archery training,” Gabriel said. “It’s a lot harder than it looks.”

“Well, judging from how your knights performed at today’s contest, I don’t think you have to master the skill to become one of them.” 

Gabriel laughed and Castiel had to smile. Two girls walked past and Balthazar called out to them by name. They stopped by his side to talk and Gabriel stood up to join them.

Castiel kicked the heels of his boots against the stone wall, uncomfortable to be sitting alone with Dean. He went to take a drink of ale and realized he had finished the mug. He set it at his side and crossed his arms. Dean was even more handsome up close and Castiel couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

“So, when do you become a knight?” Dean asked.

Castiel glanced at him, then back at his boots. “I could become one now, I turned eighteen this past month, but I doubt I’ll be dubbed anytime soon.” He sighed. “Plenty of time left as a squire.”

“So, that is the end goal? Join the Sheriff’s service?”

Castiel frowned and looked at him. “I suppose. It’s not the worst thing. We get boarding, food, clothes.”

Dean shrugged. “If you don’t mind being treated like a servant.”

“Well, there’s that,” Castiel agreed. “It’s not an easy job.” To be honest, he had never wanted to be a squire, but, then again, he hadn’t had much choice in the matter. “Why do you and your friends travel? Why don’t you have jobs?”

“Nothing better to do, I suppose,” Dean said with a laugh.

“Where did you meet?” 

“Here and there, on the road.” Dean looked at him. “Why all the questions?”

Castiel flushed, again. He was thankful it was growing darker in the square to hide his face. “People in town, the knights, they’re always cautious of new folk. And nosy.” It was true, but not why he was asking questions. “They’ll want to know.”

“Then I’ll have to come up with some convincing lies to tell.” Dean grinned. “What do you think they’ll accept better—that I’m an orphan since my family died of typhoid and now I travel from town to town looking for honest work, or maybe that I left home because my father couldn’t support me and my seven siblings, and now I’m searching for a wealthy uncle I’ve only heard tale of who will take me in?” He looked at Castiel and his eyes crinkled at the edges in amusement. 

_Maybe they’re so green because his clothes bring them out_ , Castiel thought. He realized Dean had asked him a question. “I—I don’t know. Are any of those tales true?”

Dean laughed. “No. But I think they’re the ones people would want to hear.”

“What about them?” Castiel asked, looking at Little John and Benny. They were engaged in conversation with the other squires and the two maidens. “Was that story about the robbery true?”

“That one is. And we have plenty more where it came from.”

“Those are the tales people want to hear. That’s why everyone has a story to tell about the Hood, true or not. They all love adventure.”

“By everyone, that means you too?”

“Oh, well.” Castiel considered this. “I don’t know. As a knight, I’ll have to encounter plenty of excitement whether I want to or not.” 

“You’re very sensible,” Dean said with a smile, and Castiel couldn’t decide whether he meant it as a compliment or not, so he studied his boots.

Dean knocked his shoulder into Castiel’s, sending a shiver down Castiel’s spine. “It’s a good trait to have, though I wouldn’t know much about it. Little John is always telling me I rush into things without thinking.” 

Shrugging, he picked up the mugs Gabriel had placed on the ground. Castiel took the one he offered and watched Balthazar ask the two maidens where their friends were. They pointed towards the square and, after some arguing among the others, Balthazar went off with one of them to find the rest.

Dean nodded at them. “You’re not interested in where all the maidens are at?”

“I let Gabriel sort that out usually.”

“No fair maiden’s taken your fancy, then?” 

Castiel smiled a little. “No.” He’d been hounded enough by Balthazar and others to find the question amusing. Then he wondered why Dean had asked. Dean was absentmindedly running his fingers along his bow, but he caught Castiel looking at him. Castiel looked away hastily. 

Dean leaned back, putting his hands on the wall at his sides. “Castiel, I’m going to let you in on a secret.” Castiel glanced at him. “After the archery competition, I heard a knight say that he thought I was arrogant, because of my last shot, but, truth is, I was only trying to impress someone.”

“Oh.” Here it was. Some girl had caught Dean’s eye, maybe even one Balthazar would be bringing over soon. Castiel’s heart sank and he stared down at his boots.

“And I want to know if I succeeded.” 

Confused, Castiel looked up and met Dean’s eyes. Dean was smiling and Castiel’s heart began to race. He looked back down at his boots. 

“I think,” he started slowly. “I think you had the attention of whoever you were trying to impress before the competition even began, so winning it like that didn’t hurt.”

“Good to know.” Dean shifted and his hand grazed Castiel’s.

“Here we are,” Castiel heard Balthazar call and he looked up to see him walking over with three girls. 

Gabriel waved. “Harper!” he called. “Where the hell have you been?” 

Castiel could see the night play out as it always did: him tagging along feeling uncomfortable, eventually leaving early to return to the castle, listening to Gabriel tell of his exploits the next day—Dean leaned closer to him and he tensed.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” Dean asked, his voice lowered. 

Castiel’s heart thumped. “Alright,” he said before his nerves got the better of him.

“I’ll be right back,” Dean told his friends, jumping down from the wall. 

“Where’re you going?” Balthazar asked, “We’re just getting started.”

Benny gave Dean a quizzical look and Gabriel looked up at them. His eyes went to Dean, then to Castiel, and he winked. Castiel turned red. 

He stood up from the wall. "Don’t drink up our bribe for the guard,” he told Gabriel.

“Yeah, yeah.” Gabriel waved him off. 

Turning down the street leading back to the square, Dean bumped into Castiel and their hands brushed again. Castiel felt a funny feeling in his chest and blamed it on the ale.

“A bribe? You guys aren’t allowed to be out?” Dean asked.

“No, only some squires are allowed to come into town for celebrations.” 

“Ah. So you’re not one of those favored squires?”

Castiel shook his head. That was an embarrassing subject. If Gabriel and the others only put in the effort, they might gain the respect of lead knight Sir Thaddeus, but Castiel knew there was no hope for him. Hoping Dean didn’t ask why, he said, “The rest of us only get two weekends a year to visit family or spend however we please.” 

“Does your family live here?”

“They live in Newark.” It seemed strange to refer to them as his family. Changing the subject, he asked, “Where are you from originally?”

“Locksley.” Dean didn’t elaborate and they fell into an uneasy silence. 

They entered the main square and Castiel wondered what to say, where they should go. People milled about, sat drinking and talking, and torches along the houses lit the streets in an orange glow. A bard with a vielle sat on a front stoop and crooned to his listeners.

“Are you leaving tomorrow?” Castiel’s voice sounded loud in the relative stillness of the street. 

“Yes," Dean said, looking around the square. He looked back at Castiel. "To tell you the truth, I’m not so fond of cities. Little John and Benny neither. So we try to stay away. But it’ll be nice to sleep on a real bed instead of the side of the road.”

“Well, you’ll find plenty of inns down that way,” Castiel said, pointing across the square. Loud voices caught his attention and he saw a group of drunken knights approaching them. “Let’s go this way,” he said quickly, veering off into an adjacent alleyway. Dean followed him and they paused in the narrow space. 

Dean looked behind them. “You know them?”

Castiel nodded. “Any of them could report me to Sir Thaddeus and get me into trouble.”

“Good thing they look too drunk to see straight.” 

They waited for the knights to pass by and Castiel’s heart quickened at how close Dean was standing. Realizing he could step away, he nearly did, but then he met Dean’s eyes. 

Dean’s face was half obscured by shadows, but the way the torchlight from the square shone across his eyes made them look golden. Forgetting where he was, Castiel might have kept staring if, at that moment, Dean hadn’t leaned in and kissed him.

Castiel froze, forgot how to breathe, couldn’t tell if his heart had stopped beating or if it was going too fast. Dean pulled away and Castiel could only stare at him, stunned silent by the lingering sensation of Dean’s lips on his.

“Sorry,” Dean started, stepping away. “I thought—”

"No, I'm sorry," Castiel said, grabbing Dean's arm to stop him. "I didn't realize, I wasn't sure." A smile tugged at Dean’s mouth as Castiel paused and tried to remember how to speak. "This never happens to me," he finally managed.

"Can we try again?" Dean asked and Castiel nodded breathlessly. Stepping forward, Dean cupped Castiel's jaw with his hand, then he kissed him again, and this time Castiel kissed him back, feeling a little dizzy from the shock of it all—that this handsome archer was kissing him, that such a thing could happen to him. He moved closer to Dean so their chests bumped, tentatively touched Dean's cheek, and Dean put his hand over his.

Voices growing louder caused them to break apart. Dean looked out at the square and Castiel heard a couple pass by the alley. He bit his lip to keep from smiling.

“Those knights are gone,” Dean said, looking back at him. Castiel nodded, unable to stop his eyes from trailing to Dean's lips. Dean grinned and grabbed his hand. “Come on.” He pulled Castiel down the alleyway, away from the square. They made their way deeper into the city where only quiet houses stood, their inhabitants either asleep or at the celebrations. 

Castiel’s heart beat faster as Dean held onto his hand. _I must be drunk,_ Castiel thought. _How is this happening? He’s drunk, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. This can’t be real._ He looked up at the dark windows of the houses around them, feared briefly someone might be watching, someone might see, then they turned aside into a dark corner and Dean kissed him again and he forgot to worry. 

They kissed unhurriedly and the tension in Castiel’s shoulders eased as he sunk into the slow, long kisses that weren't long enough. Every time Dean pulled away for the briefest moment, Castiel chased his mouth again. He hadn't realized, hadn't let himself think of how much he'd wanted this. 

"For someone who this never happens to," Dean said, pulling away and grinning at him, "you're very good at it."

Castiel felt his face grow warm. "You're only saying that to be kind," he said and Dean shook his head. He closed the gap between them, kissed Castiel again, then ran his tongue up Castiel's bottom lip. Castiel shivered and parted his lips to Dean's tongue, felt lightheaded as Dean deepened their kiss. He put his hand to the back of Dean's neck and pressed closer to him, lost himself in Dean's soft, slow, sweet ale kisses.

“How did you know?” he breathed when they pulled away after some time. He didn’t know what he meant; something along the lines of how did Dean have the courage to kiss him, how did he know Castiel felt the same way?

“I didn’t.” Dean moved his thumb along Castiel’s cheek. “Sometimes you just have to trust your instincts.” He kissed Castiel again and a sudden gust of wind made Castiel look up at the sky. The moon was high above the roofs, and stars clustered the sky. The noise from the square had diminished somewhat. The nightly curfew bell would ring shortly.

“You have to go back to the castle?” Dean asked. Castiel nodded, then didn’t know why he had nodded. He wanted to stay here, with Dean, but that was ridiculous, he couldn’t get in trouble simply because he got distracted and stayed out too late.

Dean took his hand. “I’ll walk with you.”

Castiel blinked at him, pulled from his thoughts. “This way,” he said, pointing in the direction of the castle. As they walked, the houses and shops began to spread further apart, then he and Dean turned down a street where the houses fell back. Ahead, past a stretch of dirt road, stood the castle on top of its promontory.

They paused where the dirt road began and Castiel looked up at the sky again, wished time would stop passing. Dean looked at the castle and Castiel followed his gaze, stared at the looming towers, the gates, the walls. An intense hatred for the castle, the knights, his title as squire welled up in him.

“Sometimes I wish I could leave for good,” he said, giving voice to the passion. “Never see this place again.”

Dean looked at him. “Why don’t you?”

Castiel studied him, wondering if Dean was jesting. He seemed so serious. The passion faded just as quickly as it had risen and he shook his head. “Where would I go? Besides, soon enough I’ll become a knight and, if I’m lucky enough, I’ll get an injury that exempts me from battle. Then I can live easy.” It sounded so pathetic even as he spoke.

“Some life,” Dean said, looking back at the castle. He still held onto Castiel’s hand and seemed to be fighting an urge to speak. Then he turned to Castiel and his words came out in a rush. “Castiel, you should come with us, me and my friends.” He paused, as if realizing the absurdity of what he was proposing, but continued anyway, “I know it doesn’t sound like much of a life, traveling from town to town, but we get by, and we have a home, of sorts. I think you’d like it there.”

“I…” For a split second Castiel entertained the thought of saying yes. But reason prevailed. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I mean,” he gestured to the castle walls, “I’ve been preparing as a squire for so long, this is my life.” He looked at Dean and wished he could answer differently.

“It’s alright.” Dean let go of Castiel’s hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “It was an absurd thing to even propose.”

Castiel shook his head. “No, it was kind of you to ask.”

They looked at each other and Castiel could hear a shuttered window creak in a slight breeze. 

“Well, I guess you have to go,” Dean said. 

Castiel nodded, not wanting to speak and end the moment. Dean seemed to hesitate, then he stepped forward and kissed him. Closing his eyes, Castiel felt his heart sink.

Stepping away, Dean said, “If you ever leave Nottingham, you can come visit us at our camp in Sherwood Forest. One of us is bound to find you if you just make it into the Forest.”

Castiel nodded. He thought Dean knew just as much as he did that he’d never take him up on the offer. 

Dean smiled at him softly. “Well, goodbye then, Castiel.”

“Goodbye.” Castiel looked up into his eyes and fought the desire to kiss him again, to not let him go. 

Dean walked away, back into town, and Castiel watched him for a long moment. Then a cool night wind blew again, raising the hair on his arms. Turning, Castiel trudged up the dirt road back to the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! the next chapters won't be quite so long but more drama will quickly unfold... leave me a comment to let me know what you thought :)
> 
> and come chat with me at my [tumblr](https://expectingtofly.tumblr.com/)


	2. Under The Hood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for coming back for chapter 2, hope you like it :)

The clanging morning bell woke Castiel and he stared up at the wooden beams of the Great Hall. Last night felt like a dream and he ran over it in his mind, wondering if any of it had truly happened.

Sitting up, he saw Gabriel lying near him. Castiel nudged him and Gabriel pushed his blanket off his face, squinting in the light streaming through the narrow windows. “Morning already?” he groaned, sitting up. He rubbed his back, then looked at Castiel and grinned. “So, what did you get up to last night?”

So it had happened after all. “Nothing,” Castiel said, pulling on his boots and standing. He looked around at the other squires and knights rising and spotted Michael and Balthazar. “You guys made it back in time?”

“Not a moment too soon.” Gabriel threw aside his blanket into a crumpled pile and stared up at Castiel, raising his eyebrows. Castiel ignored him and Gabriel sighed. “Fine, you can tell me later,” adding, in a hushed voice, looking at the others conspiratorially, “when we’re alone.”

  
  


They went to their morning chores—cleaning out the stable—and Castiel half-listened to Gabriel, Michael, and Balthazar interrupt and talk over each other in an attempt to tell the other squires about last night.

Castiel shoved his pitchfork into a pile of hay. He didn’t know why he felt like he’d made a mistake, not saying yes to leaving with Dean last night. Not that there really was any other option; he’d only been acting sensibly. Dean had said that was a good trait.

Dumping the hay into a stall, Castiel left the stable to grab another hay bale. The sun had risen just above the castle walls, casting the carts holding the hay bales in shadow. Dean and his companions had probably already left Nottingham. Castiel wondered where they were headed next.

“Wait up!”

Castiel turned to see Gabriel running after him. Sighing, he dragged a hay bale off the cart and set it on the ground. “So?” Gabriel asked, reaching him. He sat up on the cart and looked expectantly at Castiel.

Castiel crossed his arms. “What?” 

“Last night! You left us to go off with that archer. Don’t tell me you ditched him and came back to the castle early.”

“Nothing happened. He only walked back with me.”

Gabriel groaned. “Really, Cas? He was into you, even _I_ could tell. You mean to tell me you weren’t the least bit interested?” 

“Well…” Castiel found himself fighting back a smile. “We kissed, that’s it.”

Gabriel hit him on the arm. “I knew it!”

“It didn’t mean anything,” Castiel said quickly. “He’s leaving today anyway, I’m never going to see him again.”

“Alright, alright, that’s fine, a little one night fling. This is a big deal, Cas. This is a start. I mean, this kind of stuff never happens to you.”

“Thanks for rubbing it in,” Castiel muttered, wondering whether he should tell Gabriel the rest. “Umm, it was kind of funny, when I said goodbye to Dean.” He paused. 

“What? There’s more?”

“He asked me to come with him and his friends.” It sounded ridiculous coming out of his mouth. Even more ridiculous was the way he had considered it for a second when Dean asked.

Gabriel looked at him in disbelief. “He did?” Castiel nodded. “Oh, wow. He was more into you than I thought.” He studied Castiel, then broke into a smile. “You thought about saying yes, didn’t you?” Castiel sighed and Gabriel laughed. “That’s too good. Can you imagine if I had come back and you weren’t here and I heard you went off with some archer you just met?” He laughed harder. 

“I would never do that,” Castiel protested. 

“No, I know, trust me. I would’ve sooner thought he kidnapped you or that you had lost your mind.” Castiel rolled his eyes and grabbed the hay bale. Gabriel shook his head, still laughing. 

“Can we not talk about it?” Castiel asked. “I mean, it was only a one night thing, like you said. I don’t want to be teased about it for the rest of my life.”

“You’re not getting off that easy.”

Castiel rolled his eyes again, then heard yelling from behind them. He turned around to see Rafael running over. 

“Grab the horses!” Rafael called.

“What the hell is going on?” Gabriel asked, jumping down from the cart.

“The Hood was here,” Rafael panted, running up. “A baron was robbed this morning coming into town. Sir Guthrie, Gil, and Anthony need their horses.”

“The Hood?” Castiel said in disbelief as they ran back inside the stable. “Why would he come here?”

Gabriel grabbed a saddle off the wall. “Maybe he knows the Sheriff is away looking for him.” 

They led the horses to where the knights were waiting in the yard. “Hurry up!” Sir Guthrie called. “The Hood is getting away as we speak.” Castiel brought his horse to him and he mounted. “We finally have a chance to catch the son of a bitch.” Spurring his horse, he and the knights rode off through the gates. 

“The Sheriff’s gonna be pissed when he hears the Hood was here all along,” Gabriel said.

The excitement over, Castiel and Gabriel went back to the barn to join the other squires in completing their morning duties. Rafael recounted what he had heard from the knights, of how the Hood ambushed the baron and robbed him, but, for once, Castiel wasn't interested in hearing about the outlaw. He couldn't help running over last night’s events in his head. He couldn’t believe it had happened, or, rather, it had happened to _him_. Why had Dean taken a fancy to him? It seemed too good to be true. Maybe Dean had been drunker than Castiel had realized. Why else would he ask Castiel to leave with him?

Still, it had been endearing of him. Castiel walked out of a stall and, not looking where he was going, bumped into Zachariah.

“Watch where you’re going,” Zachariah said, shoving him aside. 

Castiel’s shoulder hit the wall hard. “Sorry,” he said quickly. Zachariah gave him a dirty look as he walked away. 

Gabriel walked over, dragging a bag of grain. “Your cousin’s a dick.”

“Keep it down,” Castiel cautioned. When he had first arrived at the castle and met Gabriel, Castiel had let it slip that he and Zachariah were related. Zachariah had found him later and made him pay for it; Castiel had had bruises for a week. He’d been under no allusions that Zachariah would be a friendly face around the castle, but after that, Castiel kept an even further distance.

He looked at where Zachariah was talking to Rafael and worried over what Zachariah told the other squires about him. All he knew was that most squires weren’t so friendly towards him like Gabriel was—not surprisingly if Zachariah was sharing Castiel’s past.

With another nervous glance at Zachariah and Rafael, he helped Gabriel lug the bag of grain into an empty stall.

* * *

“Couldn’t find hide nor hair of the Hood or his band,” Sir Guthrie announced the next day during the midday meal. He and the three other knights who had gone after the Hood had returned that morning with nothing to show for their efforts. Castiel listened, standing against the wall of the Great Hall, as the knights aired their frustrations. Sir Guthrie tapped the handle of his knife on the table. “And the Sheriff hasn’t had any luck near Ancaster. He’s heading back now.”

“The Sheriff’s offering an even bigger reward for the outlaw's capture,” Sir Bartholomew added. “I say we go on our own, find this “Hood,” and bring him to justice.”

“We could, if we didn’t have to chase after all these fucking peasants shooting the crown’s deer or not paying their taxes,” complained Sir Ishim.

Castiel stiffened at their callous talk. Ever since King Richard had left for the Crusades and Prince John had taken power, taxes rose every month and more punishments than ever were dealt out. And yet, everyone remained so loyal to Prince John. Well, _pretended_ to stay loyal. One couldn’t just voice their dissatisfaction aloud. Even idle talk about the Sheriff or Prince John was cause for punishment.

It seemed things were only ever getting worse for common folk. Not that life had ever been easy. Castiel remembered his mother hunched over her sewing at night, sitting close by a fire which she kept low to not attract attention from the city guards outside regulating curfew. The frustration on her face as she counted the few coins she’d received from her handiwork. Castiel had often gone to bed hungry, falling asleep as his mother spoke once again of her family, always with a curse. Recounting how her father left his shop to her sister, how her sister fared so much better than she. How her family had sent her away when—

“Are you asleep on your feet, boy?” 

Castiel blinked and realized Sir Ishim was holding out his goblet. He hurried forward to fill it, stammering an apology, and Sir Ishim swore at him. 

Stepping back, Castiel focused on the activities in the Great Hall. It didn't do to dwell on memories of his mother, not now. He’d had enough opportunity to hate his aunt himself, his uncle and cousins too, when he went to live with them. But now he was at the castle, free from them all, with the exception of Zachariah. But Castiel was more than eager to pretend, as Zachariah did, that they weren't related. It was better to try to forget everything that had happened before.

As the knights finished eating and left the Great Hall, Sir Ishim pointed at him. Castiel tensed, waiting for another rebuke, but Sir Ishim said, “Tomorrow we’re leaving early for Lincoln. The Count of Redfield is traveling there and we’re accompanying his caravan. Make sure everything is ready.” Castiel nodded. 

Sir Ishim left the Hall and Gabriel appeared at Castiel’s side. “You get to leave?” he groaned. “Not fair.”

“But you get to take care of poor old wounded Sir Bartholomew.” Gabriel made a face and Castiel laughed, trying to shake the heavy gloom that always settled over him at the memory of his mother.

He began clearing the knights' dish ware. An excursion outside of Nottingham would be welcome. A week of no training or filling up goblets or sleeping in the cramped Great Hall. The castle walls had been feeling more confining than ever since Dean's offer to leave. Perhaps a break from it all would let him return again satisfied, or at least resigned, with his work.

  
  


After eating and cleaning up the Great Hall, there were weapons to polish and sharpen and supplies to pack. Castiel went to the stockroom and grabbed extra clothing for Sir Ishim, shoved tunics and breeches into a pack. Realizing they would pass by Sherwood Forest during their trip made him think of Dean, again. He wondered why Dean and his friends camped in the Forest; surely they knew the Hood made frequent appearances in its woods. He hoped Dean didn’t encounter the Hood. Even if the Hood’s exploits were greatly exaggerated, he was still an outlaw and dangerous. 

Footsteps sounded behind him and Castiel turned to see Hannah walking inside holding a basket of laundry. He nodded at her and made to walk past, but she pointed to the pack he was carrying.

“Is your knight leaving somewhere?” she asked.

Castiel nodded. “We’re accompanying the Count of Redfield’s caravan.”

Hannah set her basket on the table. “I used to work for the Count, when I first came to Nottingham.” 

“Really?”

“Yes, and don’t tell anyone, but,” she lowered her voice, “the Countess was a real bitch.” Castiel stifled a laugh and she nodded. “Used to always come into the kitchen complaining about the food, yelling at us. It was a nightmare. I was lucky Donna left to work here and brought me with her. Consider yourself warned.”

“Well, I’ll stay away. Hopefully, I won’t have to interact with her.” He followed Hannah out of the stockroom. 

“Where is the caravan headed?” Hannah asked.

“Lincoln.”

“You’ll probably pass by my family’s land, then. They have a farm near there.”

“Your parents are farmers?” He realized that, for all the years he had known Hannah, seen her in the kitchen and around the castle, he knew next to nothing about her.

“Is that a jab?” she asked with a smile. “I guess your parents are city folk?”

“No, no, they’re uh… they’re not,” he ended lamely. 

Hannah didn’t seem to notice his stumbling answer. “Keep an eye out for a farm with large willow trees. That’s where my family lives.” 

“I will.” They paused where the hallway branched off in two directions and stood there awkwardly for a moment. Castiel jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “I have to go, make sure Sir Ishim’s horse is ready for the trip.”

“Right, well, have a good trip,” Hannah said, turning to walk down the hallway. 

Castiel walked off in the other direction, glad Hannah hadn’t asked about his family. It was too complicated and, besides, he knew all too well the types of looks he received speaking of his mother. He’d decided long ago it was best to not speak of it.

* * *

The caravan left the castle early the next morning. Castiel rode behind the procession of the two carriages and four knights with the other squires and servants, as well as two pages he didn’t know well. They were brothers who had only come to the castle a few months ago and they talked incessantly as they rode. 

“I hear the Count is meeting with Prince John,” one of them, Benjamin, said.

The other, Nathaniel, responded with a scoff. “Prince John isn’t in Lincoln, idiot.”

“Yeah, well, he’s trying to become Prince John’s second-hand man. He must be on some important business.”

Absentmindedly, Castiel watched the countryside pass and listened to the pages dither on. A few years ago, Prince John sent his knights to kill a noble family which was trying to gain power in King Richard’s absence. A Duke, or Count—Castiel couldn't remember which—and his sons. After the murder, most nobles, including the Count of Redfield, had practically crawled to Prince John and didn’t argue when he took the throne.

Castiel felt guilty, of course, knowing that as a squire in Nottingham he was in Prince John's service. That hadn't been true always; King Richard had been in power when Castiel first came to the castle. But when Prince John took the throne, Castiel hadn't thought of leaving. The castle wasn't exactly a home, but it was better than what he'd have as a beggar—which is what he'd become if he left, since he doubted his aunt and uncle would welcome him back.

The thought was rather depressing and wasn't helping ease his guilt any, so Castiel let his mind slip instead to its usual haunt—the night he met Dean. 

Some details he remembered with stark vividness: the casual manner in which Dean pulled back his bow string, the rasp of his tunic under Castiel’s palm, the freckles across his cheeks. Other moments were hazy. How _did_ Dean look at him when he asked him to leave Nottingham with him? Had his eyes been sincere? Teasing? 

Castiel frowned and focused on the reins in his hands. Gabriel always said he was too sentimental. But he’d never met anyone like Dean before. Why did Dean have to leave? Dean was the first person he’d ever kissed, which seemed a miracle in itself. Everything about that night seemed like a miracle, something Castiel had conjured up in a dream. 

It might as well have been a dream, though, for all its bearing on the present. But that was also too depressing to think about, so he let the night play out again in his mind, not wanting to forget any moment if the memory was all he would ever have.

* * *

After stopping at a small inn for the night, Castiel and the rest of the caravan rose early in the morning to ride again. Castiel hid a grin, remembering Hannah’s words, as he watched the Countess bark orders at her maidservant and implore a knight to carry her from the inn to her carriage so that she wouldn’t dirty her shoes.

“Hey, boy!” 

Castiel rolled his eyes. He’d been working for Sir Ishim for four years now and he’d never heard him say his name. He was pretty sure Sir Ishim didn’t even remember. He turned, adopting a helpful air. “Yes, sir?”

Sir Ishim stood on the inn steps, holding his pack. “Where the hell is my dagger?”

“I’m sure I packed it.” Castiel walked to him. He didn’t see why Sir Ishim couldn’t pack his own luggage; it wasn’t like he did much at the castle anyway. “Maybe it’s in your saddle bag?” Sir Ishim cuffed him on the side of his head and, startled, Castiel reeled back, bringing a hand to his right ear.

“It goes in my pack, you idiot! How many times have you done this?”

“I’m sorry—”

“Stop standing there and go fetch it!”

Castiel turned on his heel and went to Sir Ishim’s horse. His ear stung but he ignored the looks of the other squires and rummaged through the saddlebag for Sir Ishim’s dagger. Always something wrong. Was he ever going to get a handle on being a squire? 

Retrieving the dagger in its leather sheath, he brought it to Sir Ishim, who was now talking to a young maiden standing in the inn’s doorway. He had first met Sir Ishim when his uncle brought him to Nottingham to live at the castle. Sir Ishim and his uncle had gotten along immediately, a sign Castiel should have seen meant he would soon loathe Sir Ishim.

Sir Ishim took the dagger without looking at him and Castiel stood there awkwardly. After a few moments, Sir Ishim glanced at him and frowned. “What now?” he spat.

“Can I take your pack and ready your horse?” Castiel tensed, waiting for another blow.

“Yes! Now go away and hurry up!” Sir Ishim shoved the pack at him and turned back to the maiden. Castiel hurried away. 

He led Scarlet in line with the other horses and Benjamin glanced over at him. Castiel thought he was going to mention Sir Ishim’s temper, but he only said, “I heard Sir Guthrie say we’re gonna leave this road and take a lesser known route. I think they’re worried about the Hood.”

“Is that so.” Castiel stepped around to Scarlet’s other side to tighten the saddlebag straps.

“He’d have to be an idiot to try and rob our caravan,” Nathaniel said, leading a horse up to them. “We have four knights with us.”

“That hasn’t stopped him before,” Benjamin pointed out.

Castiel hadn’t really considered the danger they were putting themselves in, escorting one of the wealthiest families in Nottingham. “Do you really think he’ll try?” he asked.

Benjamin shrugged and Nathaniel spoke up, “I hope so. Imagine if we’re there when the Hood is finally captured.” He grinned. “Maybe we’d even get a part of the reward.”

Benjamin scoffed. “Right, and Prince John will give you a medal for your service.” Nathaniel shoved him and they scuffled. 

Castiel turned back to Scarlet. Gabriel would be so jealous if they encountered the Hood. Sir Ishim approached and mounted Scarlet. He snatched the reins from Castiel’s hands and Castiel backed away, not eager to stick around. 

With a call from the knight at the head of the procession, the carriages started forward. Castiel joined Benjamin and Nathaniel behind the last carriage and they continued their journey.

* * *

As Benjamin had said, the caravan soon turned off the main thoroughfare onto a narrow road lined with woods on one side and open fields on the other. The ground buckled and the carriages creaked as they jostled over the ground. Castiel watched the woods. Sunlight only penetrated the forest within a few feet, then the trees dissolved into one dark mass. Anyone could hide in there, watching the road unseen.

Sometime in the afternoon, the first carriage’s wheels got stuck in a rut and Castiel, the squires, and servants had to push it out as the knights watched and shouted orders.

The Count of Redfield stuck his head out of the carriage. “Is it really necessary to take this route?” he asked Sir Guthrie. “My wife is getting sick from all this movement.”

“Too late to turn back now," Sir Guthrie said brusquely. The Count pulled his head back into the carriage and Sir Guthrie looked back at the other knights. “This was a mistake,” he said in a lowered voice. “We’re no safer here than we were before. If the Hood should attack while we’re stalled…”

“This road ends in a few miles,” Sir Ramiel said, studying the woods. “Then we can join the main road again.” He snapped his reins and his horse stepped forward. “I’ll ride up ahead and keep watch.”

The carriage’s wheels eased out of the rut with a groan and Castiel wiped dirt from his hands. “Move along!” Sir Ishim yelled and they continued on their way.

“If the Hood should come,” Sir Eliott said, looking back at Castiel and the squires. “The first priority are the Count and Countess.” 

Castiel looked at Benjamin and Nathaniel. They were whispering to each other, casting nervous glances at the sinister woods. The carriages slowed over a bump in the road where tree roots disturbed the path. Castiel waited for the wheels to halt once again, but they made it past the obstacle. 

The grassy field to their left whispered in a breeze and birds chirped overhead. Sir Guthrie tapped the hilt of his sword on his hip. Castiel wondered how he and the squires were supposed to protect the Count and Countess with only the small daggers they were allowed to carry while the knights were allowed to carry real weapons. 

A flock of birds scattered from the trees, the sudden noise startling Castiel. He saw Sir Ishim startle as well, then mutter to himself as he realized what had caused the commotion. The birds rose on the wind, then settled in the opposite field, dotting the green grass and yellowish dirt.

Castiel began to weary. He hadn’t slept well, holed up in the barn with the other squires and servants, cold under one thin blanket. His left boot rubbed his heel and he knew he was getting a blister. He started counting the number of times the Count peered out of the carriage window at the forest. That was five times just then.

“There’s Sir Ramiel up ahead,” Sir Guthrie said, drawing Castiel's attention to the knights flanking the carriages.

“Why’s he stopped?” Sir Ishim asked. He called ahead. “See anything?”

Castiel couldn’t see Sir Ramiel past the carriages, but he saw Sir Ishim’s face fall. In an instant, Sir Ishim drew his sword and Sir Guthrie raced forward on his horse.

In the sudden chaos, Castiel froze up, unsure what was happening. Then he heard Sir Ramiel yell, “It’s a trap!” and an arrow flew from the forest and narrowly missed Sir Ishim. Sir Ishim yelped, nearly falling off Scarlet.

Ducking, Castiel clambered down from his horse. He ran behind the last carriage and peered out from it. Sir Ramiel stood ahead in the road with his hands in the air. A man in a hood left the woods and approached him, holding a bow and arrow aloft. 

Sir Guthrie and Sir Elliott were frozen on their horses, two outlaws on the outskirts of the woods pointing bows and arrows at them. “On the ground,” one of the outlaws called. He was young with blonde hair, and his eyes darted to Sir Ishim. “You there! You too! Dismount and put your sword on the ground.” 

Castiel glanced back to see Sir Ishim drop his sword and stumble from his horse in his haste. There seemed to be more outlaws in the woods, but Castiel couldn’t tell how many. His eyes met Benjamin’s. He was trembling, his hands in the air, eyes glued to the man in the hood. _The Hood_ , Castiel realized with a start.

“No wrong moves or I’ll shoot!” an outlaw Castiel couldn't see called. “All the knights, come here where we can see you better.”

Castiel watched Benjamin follow the knights to the forest edge, then looked again at the Hood. Should he do something? What _could_ he do? 

“Psst.” Castiel looked up and saw the Count sticking his head out of the window opposite where their attackers stood. “Help us!" the Count whispered. "The lock’s stuck!” The handle on the carriage door jiggled furiously. 

Castiel looked back at the Hood’s men. They were herding the knights to the side of the road and collecting their swords. The Hood stood apart, still holding his bow aloft, scanning the caravan. Castiel ducked back before he could be spotted.

He stepped around the carriage and reached for the handle, then hesitated. “You’re never going to get away,” he whispered. The only place they could go were the open fields, and those stretched on for miles.

“Let us out!” the Count insisted. Castiel grabbed the handle and started to pull the door open quietly. A push from inside made it swing open, pushing him back against the carriage, and the Count fell out, landing on his hands and knees. He got to his feet and started running across the fields.

“Wait! Wait!” the Countess hissed, scrambling out of the carriage, holding her long dress above her ankles. Castiel reached out to help her and she smacked him away. “Out of my way, boy!”

She jumped to the ground and Castiel heard a cry of pain. He turned and saw the Count fall to the ground, clutching his leg. An arrow stuck up out of it and Castiel peered around the carriage to see the Hood lowering his empty bow. 

“Stay where you are, lady.” Castiel jumped and turned. A young woman with red hair had come up around the other side of the carriage. She held a cudgel in her hands and gestured with it to the Countess. “Come this way.”

“You horrible, despicable brute!” the Countess spat. “You should be ashamed of yourself, young lady. I pity the woman who raised you.” The redheaded woman merely smiled and mock-bowed as the Countess gathered up her skirts and walked with her head high to join the knights now sitting with their hands on their heads.

“You trying to escape too?” The redheaded woman stepped closer to Castiel and he flinched. “We’re not going to hurt you.” She put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and pointed him to the carriage. “Grab their riches and drop them out here.”

His heart pounding, Castiel climbed inside the carriage and grabbed the Countess’ purse and a small box resting on the seat. Out the window he could see the Hood and more men clearing out the first carriage. Benjamin, Nathaniel, and the other servants were being forced to help as well. 

Castiel dropped the box and purse out of the carriage. He stepped out onto the road and lifted his hands, eyeing the outlaw. She looked young, not at all like the gruff, wild outlaws he had been expecting, though he wouldn’t dare test her strength.

“Alright, now go to the back and bring down the luggage,” she said. Castiel did so quickly. As he set a trunk down onto the dirt, the blonde haired bandit he had noticed earlier joined the woman. Blood was smeared under his nose.

“Alright, David?” the redheaded woman asked.

“One of those fucking knights elbowed me in the face trying to escape.” He bent down and opened one of the trunks Castiel set on the ground. “Here we go! This one is filled with jewelry.”

“Maybe you should see to that man,” the redheaded woman said, pointing to the field. 

The young man, David, stood and looked at the Count. “Right.” He sighed. “Why do they always try to run?” He jogged out into the field. Castiel set the last trunk down and looked at the redheaded woman warily. 

“Thank you kindly,” she said, a half smile on her face. She gestured with her cudgel. “Now, that way, to the others.”

Castiel walked to where the knights and squires were seated at the edge of the road. Sir Ishim glared up at him through a blooming black eye. “How dare you help them?” he growled as Castiel sat next to Benjamin. 

“I didn’t have a choice,” Castiel said and Sir Ishim looked affronted. 

“Don’t speak back to me!” he sputtered.

“Hey! Shut up!” one of the Hood’s men yelled. He nudged Sir Ishim in the back with his cudgel and Sir Ishim snapped his mouth shut. 

The Hood and the other bandits were going through the luggage, placing clothing and food into the packs they carried. David returned with the Count, supporting him as the Count hopped on one foot. He groaned as he sank to the ground next to the Countess.

“Want me to take the arrow out?” David asked. 

“Leave him alone!” the Countess snarled and David backed up, holding up his hands. 

“Alright, fine, have it your way.”

“No, wait, come back,” the Count gasped. “I’m going to bleed out.” David rolled his eyes and crouched down in front of him.

Castiel watched as the Hood’s men returned some of the luggage to the carriages. “What are they doing?” Nathaniel whispered to Benjamin.

The Count howled in pain and the Hood walked over to the Count and Countess. “We’ll leave you with a few of your things,” he said and Castiel startled. That voice… but he was only imagining things. “We don’t want to leave you penniless and stranded, though I suspect you’d end up just fine.” 

Castiel tried to get a glimpse of the Hood’s face, but he looked back at his band of outlaws. They had finished packing up the carriages and the Hood drew a bugle hanging from his belt. “We thank you kindly for your donations to the needy,” he said, looking back at the nobles, a smile in his voice. He blew a quick blast on the bugle and his outlaws ran into the woods with their spoils. 

Drawing an arrow to his bow, the Hood followed them. “I’d advise you all to not pursue us,” he called, and, as he ran past Castiel, his hood slipped back a bit and their eyes met. 

A shock ran though Castiel and he turned to watch the Hood disappear into the woods with the other outlaws. His heart racing, he rose to his feet, hardly knowing what he was doing. 

“Those fucking bastards,” Sir Guthrie swore, getting to his feet. He yelled after the bandits, “You’ll never get away with this! We’ll find you!”

“What is everyone standing around for?" Sir Eliott barked. "We need to leave!”

Castiel heard him but stood motionless, watching the woods. The tree branches and underbrush rustled in the outlaws’ wake and then swayed still. 

Someone grabbed his shirt and yanked him backwards. “Let’s go, come on!” Sir Ishim said, shoving him, and Castiel stumbled forward. 

The knights helped the Count and Countess into the carriages and mounted their horses. The carriage drivers took their places and the carriage wheels groaned as they started moving. Still, Castiel's head spun. It couldn’t be. He mounted his horse next to the pages who were, for once, stunned speechless. He looked back at the woods, where the bandits had escaped. It couldn't be... and yet Castiel knew those eyes that had flashed under the outlaw's hood. 

It was the archer. The Hood was none other than Dean of Locksley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun dunnnn such a shock, I know ;) 
> 
> sound off in the comments to let me know what you think of the story so far! and you can check out my tumblr [here](https://expectingtofly.tumblr.com/)


	3. Castle Woes

Castiel sat outside on an overturned crate and rubbed a rag over a pair of Sir Ishim’s boots. They had returned from their travels the night before and today the castle was alight with the news that the Count of Redfield’s caravan had been robbed by the Hood himself. Castiel had had to field a dozen questions during breakfast. Thankfully, Benjamin and Nathaniel were more than eager to recount the affair over and over, stumbling over each other to tell it first, and Castiel had deferred to them. The whole thing made him sick to his stomach.

“You know the leather is supposed to be brown, right?” Castiel looked up to see Gabriel walking over. “You can’t scrub the color off." Castiel looked down at his furious scrubbing and set the boot down at his side as Gabriel sat next to him. “I can’t believe you saw the Hood.”

“Lucky me."

“You didn’t tell me one of the drivers was killed.”

Castiel frowned. “He wasn’t. No one was. Only the Count was injured and he made it out to be much worse than it really was.” Castiel had thought the Countess was bad until he saw the way the Count bitched and moaned the whole way to Lincoln. 

“Oh. Sir Ishim said the Hood shot the driver. He was telling everyone.”

Castiel shrugged and dipped the rag into the polish. 

"You’ve barely said a word all morning." Gabriel tapped Castiel’s head and Castiel pushed his hand away. “Thinking of your lover?” Gabriel teased.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Oh, alright, you’ve forgotten him already. You know, maybe he’ll come back.”

Castiel’s head snapped up. “What?”

Gabriel smiled. “Well, he seemed so enamored with you. Maybe he’ll realize he can’t stay away.”

Castiel bent his head back down over the boot. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Jeez, I thought you were sentimental. You’re over him just like that?”

“There’s nothing to be over.”

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “What's gotten into you?”

Castiel sighed. Part of him wanted to keep it secret, wait until the sting lessened and he could forget about it, forget about Dean entirely. But Gabriel wasn’t going to stop hounding him about Dean and Castiel wasn’t so sure he _could_ forget.

He looked around. A few people stood at the stables a couple yards away, but no one was within earshot. “Listen,” he said in a hushed voice. “I’m going to tell you something, but you have to promise to never tell anyone.” 

“Alright.” Gabriel watched him, serious for once.

Castiel took a deep breath. “I saw him, Dean, when I was away.” Gabriel opened his mouth to speak and Castiel cut him off, “No, it’s not what you think.” He looked over his shoulder and, satisfied they were alone, whispered, “He’s the Hood.”

Gabriel leaned back, rolling his eyes. “Come on, Cas, really?” Castiel only stared at him and Gabriel frowned. “You’re joking, right?”

Looking back down at the boot in his hands, Castiel massaged the polish into the leather with the rag. “Wish I was.”

Gabriel leaned forward again. “Wait, _Dean’s_ the one who robbed the caravan? As _the Hood_? Are you sure?” Castiel nodded. “Shit,” Gabriel said softly. He looked at Castiel cautiously. “What are you going to do?”

“What do you mean?” Castiel looked at him. “What is there to do?"

“Well, now you know what the Hood looks like, his name. The Sheriff would reward a lot of money for that information.”

“I can’t—I can’t tell anyone. I can’t give Dean up to the Sheriff—” He stopped, realizing what he was saying. “I don’t know. I mean, he is the Hood. Maybe I should tell someone who he is. He’s an outlaw, for god’s sake. Should I?”

“I don’t know.” Castiel huffed and Gabriel continued, “Then again, maybe what they say about him isn’t true. You’ve said it yourself, the Hood might be helping common folk. Maybe he’s not the menace the Sheriff has made him out to be. Do you… do you think Dean could be killing people?”

“I don’t know.” Castiel shrugged. “I don’t know fuck all about him.”

“Well… I’m sorry, Cas. Fuck. That’s rough.”

“I mean, we talked about the Hood. He lied to my face. He tricked me, he even asked me to leave with him.” Castiel threw the rag onto the ground. “What did he think would happen if I said yes? That’d I find out who he was and decide to become an outlaw too? How could he fucking think that?” He stared at his hands gripping the boot. 

“Pretty shitty thing to do,” Gabriel agreed. 

Castiel shook his head. “I can’t believe it.” He ran a hand through his hair, realized his fingers were stained with polish and picked up a clean rag to wipe them. “I think he saw me too.”

“Did he say anything?”

“No, just ran away with the Count’s riches.” He crossed his arms and shook his head again.

“I’m sorry, Cas, really.” Castiel’s eyes stung and he looked away, squinted at the sunlight. “Hey, one thing you can be glad of, you had enough sense not to take him up on his offer, right? Leaving with him when he asked you to?” Castiel huffed. “Just trying to be positive.”

Standing, Castiel picked up the boots. “Yeah, well, aren’t I smart.” _I knew it was too good to be true_ , he thought. He held up the boots. “I’ve got to bring these to the stockroom.” He walked away before Gabriel could say anything else.

Sir Ishim was standing in the stockroom taking account of all the supplies when Castiel walked inside. When his knight glanced at him, Castiel held up the boots. “I polished these, sir.”

Sir Ishim waved his hand behind him. “Set them down.” 

Castiel put them next to the others and turned to leave, then hesitated. “Sir?”

“What?” Sir Ishim turned around. His one eye was fully swollen now with a deep purple bruise courtesy of one of the Hood's outlaws.

“I was only wondering, I heard a rumor going around, that the Hood killed one of the drivers in our caravan?”

“Yes? And?”

“Well, he didn’t. Sir.”

“He might as well have.” Sir Ishim stood up straighter. “The Count nearly died, might still die of his wounds. We were all in mortal danger.” 

That was a gross exaggeration. After the initial shock of the Hood’s arrival, Castiel hadn’t felt under threat of death, not really. In fact, he’d been surprised by how _non_ -threatening many of the Hood’s outlaws seemed. When their caravan had reached the next town and he and the servants had gone through the luggage, they’d realized the Hood had only taken half of their goods, mainly money and supplies like food. 

Seeming to read doubt on Castiel’s face, Sir Ishim sighed. “There are many who doubt the threat that the Hood poses to our land. They’ve been swayed by tales of his exploits and they need a reminder of how dangerous the Hood and his band really are. Anything we can do to spread the truth that the Hood is evil and must be stopped is a service to our Sheriff and Prince John. Understand?”

Castiel nodded slowly and Sir Ishim smiled. “Wonderful.” He glanced down at the boots Castiel had put on the floor and his smile fell. “You call these polished? There’s smudges all over!” He threw them at Castiel. One bounced off of Castiel’s knee painfully and he managed to catch the other. “Out. Now.” Sir Ishim motioned him away and turned back to the supplies.

Leaving the stockroom, Castiel looked down at the boots. They were spotless, as he knew they would be. _Fuck him_ , he thought. He’d set them aside and, when he brought them back in half an hour, Sir Ishim would find them satisfactory without knowing any better.

Walking down the hallway, he wondered if anything he'd heard about the Hood was true; who knew which rumors were true and which were lies? Maybe Dean wasn’t a killer. But then why did he steal? Why had he lied? It seemed he knew even less about Dean than ever before.

* * *

“Cas. Castiel. Hey.” 

Coming back to his senses, Castiel turned and looked at Gabriel. “Sorry, what?” 

“You were spacing out.” They were standing outside a few yards from a line of targets and Gabriel lifted the bow in his hands, aiming at his target. “Sir Thaddeus is heading over here.” His arrow struck an inner circle and he whooped triumphantly.

Castiel looked around and saw Sir Thaddeus marching up and down the line of squires practicing archery. Quickly, he notched his arrow and pretended to be sighting his target.

Sir Thaddeus nodded at the other squires as he passed them. “Good work, Zachariah. Focus, Castiel.” 

“Yes sir.” Castiel released the arrow and it landed past the target. Shaking his head, Sir Thaddeus swore under his breath and walked away. 

Zachariah, standing to Gabriel’s right, scoffed. His target had three arrows sticking out of the innermost circle of the bullseye. “I don’t know how anyone believes you’re going to become a knight,” he said to Castiel.

Ignoring him, Castiel picked up another arrow from the cluster he had driven into the ground. Dean made it look so easy. _No_ , he told himself, _Don’t think about Dean_. He shot at his target and the arrow just glanced off the wood. 

Sighing in frustration, he lowered his bow.

“I think you need a distraction from,” Gabriel waved his hand at Castiel, “whatever’s going on with you. Hell, I could use one. Sir Bartholomew’s been on my back all day.” He searched for Sir Thaddeus, who was now a few feet away down the line of squires, then whispered. “We’re going into town today.”

“No, we’re not.”

“Caassss,” Gabriel whined. “Come on.”

“Shove it, Gabriel.”

“Shit, now I’m really not taking no for an answer.” Castiel pulled another arrow out of the ground and plucked at the feathers. “How about this? Tonight, we get some booze, we go to the barn, we get drunk. Whaddyasay?”

Castiel looked at the sky, stretched his neck. He supposed it would be nice to forget about Dean for a bit. “Fine.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened. “Really? Great! That was easy. Your task is to bring the ale.”

“Why me?”

“Because I’m known around the kitchen now. Donna said if I try to take anything else, she’ll tell Sir Thaddeus to string me up and quarter me.” At Castiel’s amused look he added, “What? She’s scary.” He lifted his bow again. “When the evening bell rings, alright?” Castiel nodded and Gabriel released his arrow. It hit the circle around the bullseye and he pointed at it, yelling at Zachariah, “Look at that! Feel so special now?”

Zachariah rolled his eyes and Castiel smiled faintly.

* * *

“What are you doing in here?” 

Castiel turned, nearly knocking a wine bottle off the shelf. “Oh, shit, sorry.” He steadied the wine bottle and looked behind him. Hannah stood in the doorway to the pantry, her arms crossed. Castiel had snuck in when Donna’s back was turned; he was now standing on a table to reach the bottles of liquor all the way at the back of the top shelf where they wouldn’t be missed for several weeks.

“You guys are never as sneaky as you think you are,” Hannah said. 

“Don’t tell Donna, alright?” Castiel climbed down from the table holding one large jug of ale and another of wine. 

“You’re taking those with you?”

“Umm, yes?” He waited for Hannah to stop blocking the entrance. “If you’ll let me?” he added.

A smile crept on Hannah’s face. “I’m not a tattletale.” She moved past Castiel to grab a bag of onions. “Hey, I never told you, I’m so sorry about what happened with the Hood. That must have been terrifying, especially with what happened to that driver.”

“Oh, yeah, it was uh... it was pretty scary.”

Hannah leaned on the table. “I can’t believe the Hood is still out there. I heard some people are sheltering him, hiding him from the Sheriff. Can you believe that? I’d be scared he’d slit my throat in his sleep.”

Castiel nodded, feeling uneasy. “I need to go.” He held up the wine jug. 

Hannah followed him to the door. “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m always here.”

 _If you only knew_ , Castiel thought bitterly. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

When they stepped into the kitchen, Donna said, “What took you so long, Hannah? You move like you have lead feet.” She looked up from the table she was wiping down and noticed Castiel. Her eyes narrowed. “And what the hell do you have there?”

Castiel opened his mouth to answer, but Hannah brushed past him and set the onions on the table. “Sir Ishim asked him to bring drinks to him and some other knights.”

“Ech,” Donna grimaced. “These knights and their drinking habits. Bring back whatever’s left over. If there is any,” she added, rolling her eyes.

Castiel nodded and, with a grateful smile at Hannah, left the kitchen.

He heard the evening bell clang as he crossed the yard. There was no point in trying to hide the large jugs of ale and wine, so he walked fast to the barn, hoping no one would question him.

Reaching the barn undetected, he shut the barn doors behind him and Gabriel’s head popped out over the loft. Castiel held up the jugs and Gabriel grinned. “Knew I could count on you.” Castiel climbed up the ladder to the loft, handing up the jugs. 

Gabriel uncorked both of them. He poured wine into one of the mugs stored up in the barn for this purpose and looked at Castiel questioningly. Castiel pointed to the ale, and he filled the other mug and handed it to him. 

“Cheers,” Gabriel said, lifting his mug. 

Castiel lifted his, then took a large gulp of the ale. It burned going down and he grimaced. 

“Ahh, this is the good life,” Gabriel said, sitting back against the barn wall. “Sir Bartholomew had another visit from the doctor today. He was surprised to learn good ol’ Bart is still in ‘excruciating pain.’ I’m under strict oath from Bart to not tell anyone he’s been faking his ankle injury. You know he hit me with his crutches yesterday? I’m about to chop them up and burn them in the Hall’s fireplace, see if he notices.” He shook his head and took another drink. 

“What a prick.” Castiel drained the last of his mug and leaned forward to reach the jug of ale. Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “We’re here to get drunk, aren’t we?” Castiel asked. 

“Yes, yes, we are,” Gabriel said slowly.

Castiel shrugged and tipped back his mug.

* * *

“Dean’s not the only archer in the land.” Gabriel said. Castiel lay on his back, watching the roof beams sway. “You’ll meet someone else. Some handsome farmer. Or maybe a knight.”

“Have you seen the selection?” Castiel rubbed a hand over his eyes. “That seems unlikely.”

“Alright, you’ll be alone forever, my mistake.” Castiel pushed himself up onto one elbow and filled his mug, wine splashing down the side and staining stray pieces of hay red. The jug felt much lighter and he peered into the opening. “You know, you could always try girls,” Gabriel said. 

Castiel looked at where Gabriel lay on his stomach, rolling his mug back and forth on the loft floor. “Funny,” he said into his mug.

Gabriel grinned. “Just trying to give you options.”

Castiel lay back down. “I don’t want someone else. I want Dean.” He heard his voice slur and shook his head. “No, I mean, wanted. Or want. I don’t know.”

“It’s kind of cool that he’s the Hood.” Castiel turned his head to look at Gabriel. “Ya know, having wanted posters and a reward for his capture. It's badass.”

“He did look really good in his hood,” Castiel admitted.

Gabriel laughed. “I could tell by the way you were watching him at that archery contest, admiring the way he handled his shaft.”

“Please shut up.” Castiel threw hay at Gabriel as he laughed at his own joke.

Hiccuping, Gabriel sat up and brushed hay out of his mug. Castiel thought about Dean kissing him. He wished he’d gone with Dean. No, he didn’t mean that. 

“Come on, Cas.” Gabriel nudged his shoulder with his foot. “Don’t look so sad. You’re breaking my heart.”

“Sorry. I’m going to forget about him, I really am.” Castiel sat up, pushed one hand against the floor to steady himself and another on his heart. “I swear. I will stop being a bitch about it and move on. I know you don’t want to hear me keep talking about him.”

“It’s fine, Cas,” Gabriel said. He took a drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Nobody’s rushing you.”

“I’m rushing myself. Fuck Dean, the Hood, whoever he is.” He grabbed the wine, changed his mind about filling his mug, and drank directly from the jug.

“You’re really convincing me,” Gabriel said. 

The creak of the barn doors opening below caused him and Gabriel to straighten. Gabriel crawled to the edge of the loft and looked down. “Shit,” he said. He extended his hand. “Hey there, Sir Thaddeus. Care for a drink?” Castiel stifled a laugh.

“Get your ass down here, Gabriel,” Castiel heard Sir Thaddeus say. “Castiel up there too?”

Gabriel looked back at Castiel. “Uh, not sure, what’s he look like?”

“Both of you get your asses down here.” 

Castiel nearly fell off the ladder climbing down and reached for the wall to steady himself when he stood on the ground below. Sir Thaddeus watched him unamused. Zachariah stood next to him, his arms crossed. 

“You bastard,” Gabriel said. His foot caught on the ladder's last rung and he fell on the floor. He pointed at Zachariah. “You’re just jealous we didn’t invite you.” Castiel clumsily pulled Gabriel to his feet.

“It’s nearly midnight,” Sir Thaddeus said. “Zachariah grew concerned when he saw you two missing from the Great Hall.”

“My ass,” Castiel said, then realized he’d said it aloud. He gave Sir Thaddeus a lopsided grin.

Sir Thaddeus’s face hardened. He pointed behind them to the barn doors. “To the pen. Now. We’ll decide on your punishment tomorrow. But I can promise you both it won’t be pleasant.”

“That’s what a punishment is,” Gabriel argued. Castiel shoved him to the door. “It’s not supposed to be pleasant.”

The pen was a former storage space for grain sacks, a wide trench covered with a roof of branches lashed together. Sir Thaddeus pulled back the gate in the middle and motioned for Castiel and Gabriel to get inside. 

Castiel dropped down into the hole, stumbling when he landed and looked up as Gabriel came inside. Sir Thaddeus locked the gate and leaned over it. “I expect repentant, sober faces tomorrow morning,” he said and walked away, the light from the torch he was carrying slowly receding.

“Fucking Zachariah,” Gabriel muttered. He reached up and pushed against the gate. It didn’t budge.

Castiel sank to the ground and leaned against the cool earth wall. His stomach churned. “Always getting me in trouble.” 

“We should get back at him.”

“That’ll only make it worse,” Castiel sighed. 

“We can mess up his knight’s supplies so he gets blamed. Or shave his head in his sleep.”

Castiel couldn’t help but laugh at the mental image of a bald Zachariah and Gabriel laughed too until they couldn’t breathe. Castiel realized Zachariah was the reason he and Gabriel were friends; Gabriel always said he had known he could trust Castiel when he learned Castiel hated Zachariah as much as he did.

Gabriel held up an imaginary mug. “A toast to Zachariah and Sir Thaddeus. And, of course, Dean. For being dicks.”

“Hear, hear,” Castiel said wearily. 

The moonlight made swashes of shadow on the ground and over his body, and he looked down at his shadow striped arms. He tried to hate Dean but forgot to and sat thinking about the flash of his green eyes under his hood.

_“Mother, look!” Castiel runs to his mother where she stands by the fire stirring a pot, and she turns, tucking behind her ear a strand of hair that’s fallen from her braid. He reaches only to her waist as he holds up a cluster of violet flowers, their stems broken in his small fist and the flower heads drooping._

_She smiles. “These are lovely.” Crouching down, she takes the flowers from him and makes a show of smelling them, making him laugh._

_“Lovely Castiel,” she says in a sing-song voice as she brushes his hair back from his face. “My little angel.” She pulls him to her and he can smell the spices from her cooking on her dress, a blend which tickles his nose and which, as she holds him more tightly, becomes pungent and suffocating._

_“Mother, let me go,” he says, beginning to struggle against her grip._

_She pushes him away and stands. He catches her wiping at her eyes. Seeing him staring, she shoos him away. “Go play.”_

_He begins to leave, but pauses in the doorway and looks back at her. His mother looks at the flowers in her hands, now even further wilted and crushed. She begins breaking them apart slowly, pulling the petals and snapping the stems until they lie scattered on the floor._

* * *

The warm light on his face woke Castiel, then the hardness of the ground and the strong odors compelled him to shift and open his eyes. He squinted and moved out of the light coming through the gate above. His head spun and he set his head back down, hard, on the packed earth. The memory of his mother tightened his throat for a moment, then he pushed it away to attend to more pressing matters—like the pounding in his head.

“Fuck,” he muttered. 

“Quiet,” Gabriel mumbled from where he lay a few feet away. “I’m trying to imagine I’m asleep in a feather bed.”

“It smells like piss in here.”

“Are you sure you’re not in the piss corner?” 

Castiel pushed himself up, wincing at the throbbing in his head that the sudden movement induced, and looked around. “No, it’s not this one,” he said, relieved. 

Sounds of activity came from above and the clanging of the morning bell announced the time to rise. There would be hell to pay at midday when Sir Ishim looked for him to fill his goblet and he wasn’t standing where he should be. The smell of food from the kitchen and the pungent odors in the pen nauseated Castiel until he crawled over to another corner and was sick. 

“I hate you,” he said, trying to remember why he always agreed to Gabriel’s ideas.

“I hate myself.”

Sitting back down in now one of the only “clean” areas left, Castiel remembered saying something about Dean the night before. No, maybe that was all he had talked about.

“Can we agree to forget everything I said last night?” he asked.

Gabriel lay on his back, one arm across his face. “If I ever remember, then sure.”

“Rise and shine!” came a voice from through the gate. Castiel leaned forward and saw Michael and Balthazar standing above, laughing.

“Fuck off,” Gabriel said, moving his arm away for a second to glance at them.

“Don’t you feel right at home, Gabe?” Michael asked. “Maybe they should make you sleep down here every night.”

“Oh shit, Sir Thaddeus is coming,” Balthazar said. His and Michael’s shadows disappeared and were replaced with Sir Thaddeus’. 

“Get away from there!” Sir Thaddeus called. He bent over to peer inside. “Still having a good time?”

Gabriel muttered something and Castiel spoke up, “We’re sorry. It was wrong of us, we realize that now.”

“Kiss-ass,” Gabriel said just loud enough for Castiel to hear.

Sir Thaddeus barked out a laugh. “You’re not getting out of this so easy.” He stood and said to someone Castiel couldn’t see, “Ten blows each and the rest of the day in the pen without food.” 

Castiel’s stomach dropped. This was a new punishment—he’d only ever been locked up. A guard stepped forward and unlocked the gate. Gabriel groaned and sat up slowly. 

“Out, now,” the guard said and they pulled themselves out of the pen and stood in the harsh sunlight. Castiel's heart began pounding, seeing the long rod the guard was holding.

The guard grabbed Castiel’s arm and pulled him forward to a pole at the corner of the pen. “We’re sorry, truly,” Castiel said, looking back at Sir Thaddeus, a spasm passing through his stomach. "We've learned our lesson."

“I doubt that," Sir Thaddeus said, watching with too much satisfaction on his face. "Maybe a harsher punishment will finally get through that thick skull of yours." Castiel caught sight of Balthazar and Michael watching, along with a host of other squires and even some knights. 

The guard told him to take off his tunic and Castiel obeyed reluctantly. Then the guard tied Castiel’s hands to the pole and stepped back. Castiel tensed, waiting for the blow. When it came, it knocked him forward and he gripped the pole to steady himself. He clenched his teeth and ducked his head as each blow came, holding his breath at the whistle of wind as the rod swung through the air, counting each sharp sting across his back. 

After ten, the guard untied him and shoved him towards the pen. Castiel caught himself from falling and watched Gabriel receive the same punishment. 

“May this be a lesson that your behavior will not be tolerated,” Sir Thaddeus said, standing in front of them when Gabriel had been released. Castiel nodded, looking at his feet. His back throbbed and he felt a warm trickle of blood where his skin had been broken. “Next infraction and you’ll both receive a lashing. Do you hear me?” His voice rose. 

“Yes, sir,” Castiel and Gabriel said in unison. 

“Show your elders some respect and look me in the eye!” Castiel raised his head and tried to look at Sir Thaddeus steadily without squinting in the sun. “Now what was that?”

“Yes, sir,” they repeated. Castiel noticed the knights laughing amongst each other.

“It’s not fair,” he said when they had been pushed back into the pen and their audience had moved away, Michael and Balthazar giving them sympathetic looks as they passed. “The knights are always getting drunk, no one says shit to them.”

“Yeah, but they’ve earned their right,” Gabriel said sarcastically. “Think of all their hard work.” He took a drink from the jug of water they had been given. Castiel held out his hand and he passed it over.

The cold water cleared Castiel’s head a little as he took long gulps. Setting the jug down and wiping his mouth on his arm, he asked, “Why are we squires again?”

“Beats me.”

“No, really.” Castiel lay down on his stomach, wincing at the stretch in his back. “I keep wondering why I’m here and I don’t have a good reason. I shouldn’t even be a squire. Everyone else started as a page when they were young, except me. The only reason I was allowed to become a squire is because Prince John is desperate to build a huge army to defend his kingdom and needs all the knights he can get.”

Gabriel nodded. He and the other squires had started training as pages when they were seven, so Castiel had stood out when he joined them at age fourteen. He didn’t care to tell anyone why that was so. Not even Gabriel knew the full story.

“You seemed eager to be here,” Gabriel said. “Remember when we met? And you got assigned to your knight?”

“Yeah, but becoming a knight, being a squire, I didn’t even know what that actually meant.” He traced his finger through the dirt. “I was just glad to get away from—” Clenching his hand into a fist, he dug his nails into his palm. “It doesn’t matter, I don’t know why I’m talking about it.”

“The pen’ll do that to you,” Gabriel said and Castiel looked at him gratefully. “Don’t worry. Soon enough we’ll get to boss around our own squires.”

Castiel nodded. It was just the hangover, he decided, making him feel sick to his stomach at the thought of his future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never wrote a fic with gabriel and castiel before, but their conversations in this fic are slowly becoming one of my favorite things to write. drop a comment to let me know what you thought :)


	4. In Pursuit

The week after Castiel’s and Gabriel’s punishment passed without any more incidents. They kept their heads down and even Gabriel managed to behave. Castiel avoided Sir Thaddeus, having been given a harsh talking to after being released from the pen.

“You would not be here right now without my cooperation,” Sir Thaddeus had said, cornering Castiel as he carried a bucket of water to the kitchen. “But I can discharge you as a squire anytime I want. And I know your aunt and uncle would not be happy to see you return.”

“Yes, sir,” Castiel said, staring down at the reflection of the sky in the bucket he carried.

“I took a chance on you, which I regret more times than not. If this behavior continues, I will lose my ability to turn a blind eye on your appointment as squire.” Castiel nodded and Sir Thaddeus smacked him across the face. “Do you understand me?” he asked, his voice raised and harsh.

“Yes, sir, I understand.” Sir Thaddeus stomped off and Castiel looked down at his now half-empty bucket, water having sloshed out when he reeled back as Sir Thaddeus hit him. He trudged back to the well.

It was moments like these that made him wish he could run away. Finally be free of every reminder of his relatives, free of every scornful look. Absentmindedly, he thought of running away to Sherwood Forest. Wouldn’t that show Sir Thaddeus? Becoming an outlaw, and not just any outlaw, but one in the Hood’s band? His own relatives couldn’t hate him any more than they already did. What did he have to lose?

 _Stop_ , he told himself, drawing the bucket out of the well, careful not to spill any water. He couldn’t entertain such thoughts. Like it or not, he was stuck in his situation. There was nowhere to go where he could escape everything that had conspired to place him here. 

But he couldn’t stop thinking of it. In bed that night, as the sounds of movement and low voices ceased, as everyone drifted to sleep, he lay awake, thinking of Dean. Would he ever see him again? He couldn’t deny he wished to, even knowing what he did now. Almost guiltily, in the pitch dark, he slid his hand down and stroked himself thinking of Dean, remembering the way Dean held him, kissed him. That night when he met Dean, for the first time in too long, he had felt happy, like the whole world wasn’t conspiring against him. He didn'twant to lose that. 

* * *

At the end of the week, Sir Thaddeus announced that the Sheriff was launching a concerted effort against the Hood. After what had happened to the Count of Redfield, several knights would be traveling through nearby towns and searching for the Hood, but discreetly; they would tell people they were merely collecting taxes and surveying Nottinghamshire. The less the Hood learned of their intentions, the better.

Sir Thaddeus listed the knights chosen to join the Sheriff and Castiel heard his and Gabriel’s knights named. 

“I thought Sir Bartholomew was still limping around,” Castiel said to Gabriel as they left the yard. 

“He had a miracle recovery the instant he heard about the Sheriff’s plans.” Gabriel touched his side gingerly. “I took those damn crutches and threw them in the woodpile as soon as I heard.” 

Inside the castle, they split up and Castiel went into the stairwell leading to the stockroom. At the top step sat Hannah, her apron pulled up to her eyes.

“Hannah?” he asked, approaching her. 

She whipped the apron down and wiped at her eyes. “Sorry, I’ll move.” She made to stand.

“No, you’re fine. What’s wrong?”

Her eyes were red and she sniffled. “I just got word from my mother and father that they lost their land; the Sheriff took it because they couldn’t pay their taxes. The harvest wasn’t what they’d hoped it would be, what with my brother sick and unable to help…” Tears welled up in her eyes and she wiped them with her apron again.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what they’ll do. Where can they go?” She started crying again. “Sorry,” she managed.

“Don’t apologize.” Castiel sat on the step next to her. “That’s horrible.”

“It’s that damn Sheriff,” Hannah whispered. Castiel looked down the stairs, almost afraid the Sheriff would materialize at the insult. “And Prince John. Always raising the taxes. Who the hell can pay them?” 

Castiel nodded. He didn’t know what he could say so he sat there quietly. 

Hannah wiped her eyes again. “Thanks for listening to me,” she sniffled. 

“Of course.” He smiled gently at her and she touched his shoulder, lightly. Then she withdrew her hand and stood, looking flustered. “I have to go back to the kitchen.” She seemed to want to say more, but she quickly walked away.

Castiel stood and continued down the stairs to the stockroom. He'd heard of plenty of people losing their land, their livelihood, as the result of the taxes and demands placed on them. Idly, he wondered if that’s why Dean stole from the nobility, if he was getting payback for something that had happened to his own family.

Realizing he was sympathizing with the Hood, he pushed the thought from his mind, went inside the stockroom and focused on preparing for the journey. Unfortunately, this trip wouldn’t be much of a distraction from thinking of Dean, having to hear the knights speak of the Hood over and over. Frowning, he shoved clothing into a pack. Not that he wanted to stop remembering Dean. No… only stop missing him.

* * *

It was nearly noon of the next day by the time Castiel and Gabriel left the castle in a group of knights and squires. The mood was jovial, at least among the other squires and knights. Castiel was disappointed to learn they were traveling with Zachariah and his friend Raphael. The other squires he knew only by name, young boys who had recently graduated from pages to this service. Castiel and Gabriel kept to themselves, talking as the hours passed and the sun beamed overhead.

They reached a small manor in the late afternoon and Castiel learned that they were going to split into two groups. Sir Ishim and Sir Gerald left one way and Castiel followed his knight with, regrettably, Raphael and Zachariah. He waved goodbye to Gabriel, who would be traveling farther west. Gabriel waved back and Castiel followed the knights, riding through tall grass over a worn path made by wagon wheel tracks.

At the end of the path were several small wooden houses. A young girl stuck her head out of one at their arrival and then disappeared inside. Castiel saw someone pull aside a curtain in another and stare at them as they passed.

Sir Gerald pulled his horse to a stop in front of one of the houses. A panel on the roof thumped as it moved in a breeze and tall grass grew up in between the house’s front steps. A woman holding a baby on her hip came outside as Castiel reined his horse in to a stop.

Sir Gerald raised his hand. “Afternoon.”

“Afternoon,” the woman replied flatly, eyeing them with suspicion.

“Is your husband home?”

“He’s working in the fields.”

Sir Gerald gestured to Sir Ishim. “We are sent by the Sheriff of Nottingham to travel through the land, collect overdue taxes, and check on the affairs of the lower class.”

“We’ve paid our taxes,” the woman said quickly. “Sir,” she added.

“And well you should have,” Sir Gerald began to say.

Sir Ishim interrupted him. “We’d like something to drink, if you don’t mind.” His tone suggested she had better provide it, whether she minded or not.

“Of course, sir.” She turned to the front door half open behind her and said something to someone inside. “We don’t have anything but water,” she said, turning back to them. She rubbed one bare foot on the other.

“That is acceptable,” Sir Gerald said. “Now, we have heard reports of peasants paying their taxes with stolen money given to them by the Hood. Have you heard of such a thing?”

“No, sir,” the woman replied. “Well, I mean, I’ve heard of such things, but nowhere near here.” The baby she was holding tugged at her hair and she absentmindedly unwound his fist from her curls.

“Is that so? And anyone in this manor would attest to that?”

“Yes, sir.” 

The young woman from before came around the side of the house lugging a bucket. She stopped in front of Sir Ishim, dipped a ladle into the water, and offered it to him. He took it and drank and she started towards Raphael.

“The knights first,” Sir Ishim snapped and she bowed her head and went to Sir Gerald.

“Has the Hood come to these parts?” Sir Ishim asked the woman.

“No, sir. At least, not that I’ve seen or heard tell of.”

“Would you recognize the Hood if he came here?”

“No, sir.” 

Two young children poked their heads out of the door and the woman shooed them back inside. She jostled the baby on her hip to keep him from fussing.

“You understand the Hood is an enemy of Prince John? Any information you have on him must be shared or you and your family will face punishment.” 

The woman nodded mutely.

“Now, you’ll provide some provisions for our travels, won’t you?” Sir Gerald spoke up. Castiel wondered why he was asking for food. They had packed plenty for several nights and the knights had money enough to stop at inns for supper.

“Of course,” the woman said, looking flustered. “Wait one moment, I’ll go inside and gather something together. Merida, come help me.” The young woman passing around water followed her inside.

“These peasants don’t understand the honor it is to be visited by the Prince’s knights,” Sir Gerald said, looking back at Castiel, Raphael, and Zachariah. “They should be offering provisions simply because we’re here.” Raphael and Zachariah nodded knowingly.

The woman came out with a basket. “I hope this is sufficient,” she said. Sir Gerald gestured for Raphael to take it from her. “Your respect is duly noted,” he said. He spurred his horse. “Let us continue.”

Castiel looked back at the family as they rode away. The woman and her children stood outside watching them leave. He wondered if they had enough food to feed themselves for the rest of the week. 

“That bitch,” Raphael said, peeking inside the basket as they rode. “There’s hardly enough in here to feed two men, let alone all of us.”

“That’s just like these peasants,” Zachariah said haughtily. “I wouldn’t feed the shit they give their children to my dog.” He looked at Castiel, as if daring him to say something, but Castiel only clenched his reins and looked away. Zachariah acted like he was royalty just because his parents, Castiel's aunt and uncle, were successful merchants, just because they were well-respected enough to send their eldest son to Nottingham to become a knight.

Most of Zachariah's hatred, Castiel knew, came from the fact that Castiel was never supposed to become a squire. Castiel's aunt and uncle had sent him to the castle to be a servant, but Sir Thaddeus made an exception since squires and knights were in high demand. Sometimes Castiel wished he had become a servant, if only to be able to evade Zachariah.

They left the manor then, for which Castiel was grateful, not wanting to see the knights, or Zachariah and Raphael, disparage anyone else. 

“I can’t wait to catch the Hood,” he heard Zachariah say to Raphael behind him. “Everyone will travel to Nottingham to see the hanging.”

Castiel realized with a jolt that they were speaking of Dean, though they didn’t know it. The Hood was no longer some abstract person to him, no longer a myth. The Hood was a real person—Dean of Locksley, an archer, a young, handsome man dressed in green. If they caught him… Castiel’s blood ran cold at the thought. 

_I can’t let my feelings get in the way_ , he thought. _I don’t even know Dean, not truly_. But he knew Dean didn’t deserve to hang. There was no sense behind the belief, just a conviction deep inside that he couldn’t ignore. 

That night, they bedded alongside the road, the knights grumbling at the absence of any inns nearby. Castiel lay on the cool grass and listened to the wind blowing through the trees overhead. Dean was in danger, more than he might know. _He’s escaped capture before_ , Castiel thought. But his mind kept running down the same ruts, filling him with dread. 

When he slept, he dreamt he was back in Nottingham. The city streets were crowded and he pushed his way towards the main square. The heat and tight press of the crowds nearly suffocated him, and he didn’t know what he was running towards, only that he needed to hurry. With growing panic, he shoved past people until he suddenly broke free from the crowds. Instead of the usual cobbled streets, there was a large tree towering over his head. Terror struck a chord through his whole body and he knew what he would see before he raised his eyes. Above his head, swaying every so slightly in a breeze Castiel couldn’t feel, was Dean. Castiel took a step back, the sensation of suffocation returning. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the rope tight around Dean’s neck, at the unnatural bend of his neck—

Castiel’s eyes snapped open and he jolted up. Fighting to breathe, he grabbed his neck, almost convinced he could feel a rope around it. _It’s just a dream,_ he told himself, repeated over and over. It was quiet in their small camp and he tried to breathe steadier, quieter, even as his heart thudded in his ears.

Gradually, his breathing slowed and the terror of the nightmare lessened, though a shiver ran down his spine at the sound of wind shuffling the leaves above him. He lay back down and stared up at the crooked dark lines of tree branches against the starry sky. 

He’d been to a hanging once. The year he had become a squire, a notorious murderer had been captured and the squires had been taken into the city to watch the public execution. Castiel had watched with growing trepidation as the murderer was led up to the scaffolding. When the executioner placed the rope around the murderer’s neck, he had been unable to stomach the sight a moment longer and turned away. Unable to get free of the crowd, he had heard the floor drop out and the rope squeak as it stretched, had pushed his hands to his ears to block out the sounds of the man struggling, dying. It churned his stomach to think of it now.

Dean faced the same fate and Castiel was filled with guilt. _It’s not my fault_ , he told himself. But he was in Prince John’s service, under orders of the Sheriff himself. 

Shutting his eyes, Castiel fought back the panic rising inside. What could he do? There was nothing to do. But the guilt pressing on him would not relent.

* * *

They stopped at several more houses the following day. Castiel missed the constant chatter of Benjamin and Nathaniel now that he was tormented with Raphael and Zachariah’s snide comments and jabs at every family they interrogated. His dread, exacerbated by his nightmare, would not ease, and he silently rejoiced as everyone they spoke to denied any knowledge of the Hood.

“They’re lying to us!” Sir Gerald complained as they left a farm. “The Hood’s been seen around these parts, we know that. The Sheriff should’ve given us permission to use threats.”

“I say we use more force anyway,” Sir Ishim said. “The Sheriff won’t complain if we catch the Hood.”

The evening growing long, they turned into a small village and stopped at an inn. Castiel grabbed Scarlet’s reins as his knight dismounted. Sir Ishim stretched as he looked up at the inn. “Fucking primative,” he muttered and stomped up the front porch steps.

Castiel led Scarlet into a stall in the stable and the stable boy brought over hay on a pitchfork. 

“Who are you traveling with?” he asked, nodding to the open doors. 

“Some of the Sheriff’s knights.” Castiel took the saddle off of Scarlet and stroked her neck.

“Oh.” The young stable boy set the prongs of the pitchfork on the ground and leaned on the handle. “Thought they might be royalty.”

“They act like it anyway,” Castiel said and the stable boy laughed.

Raphael came into the barn with a bag of ale and an armful of food. “Finally,” Zachariah exclaimed, laying a saddle blanket out on a pile of hay in the corner. “I’m famished.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Raphael said, spreading out the food on the blanket. “Innkeeper was being stingy.”

Castiel sat down with them and picked up a loaf of bread. He noticed the stable boy absentmindedly pitching hay into another stall, taking glances at them. “Hey,” he called and the stable boy looked up. “Want to eat with us?”

Brightening, the stable boy leaned the pitchfork against the wall. “Sure, thanks.” He sat next to Castiel.

Zachariah gave Castiel a sour look but, ignoring him, Castiel ripped off a piece of bread from the loaf and handed the rest to the stable boy. “I’m Castiel,” he said. 

“Alfie,” the boy said through a mouthful of bread.

“Don’t you get your own food?” Raphael asked coldly. 

Alfie looked embarrassed. “I have to pay for it out of my own pocket. Some days I figure it’s better to go hungry.”

“Eat however much you want,” Castiel said. “We have enough.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Raphael and Zachariah exchange annoyed looks. 

They ate silently, then Raphael spoke up. “I swear the cook was speaking about the Hood when I walked into the kitchen. Everyone got really quiet when I went inside.”

“You guys ever see the Hood?” Alfie asked casually. Zachariah and Raphael glanced at him, irritated, and Castiel pretended not to hear. “I have,” Alfie continued. Castiel’s head snapped up to look at him. “He came through here recently. Him and his band.” He grinned at everyone’s eyes on him.

“The Hood came _here_?” Raphael asked incredulously.

Castiel tried to indicate for Alfie to be quiet and Alfie glanced at him. “Uh, I mean, I saw him as his band came through town.”

“What the fuck did they come here for? To steal from the inn?” Zachariah asked.

“No, I’m not sure.” Alfie lowered his eyes. “I mean, it may not have even been the Hood, I don’t know.”

“You sure?” Raphael asked. “Because if you have any information about the Hood that you’re hiding, you’re gonna be in deep trouble.” He glared at Alfie and Alfie shrunk back. 

“No, I swear,” he stammered.

“I don’t think he knows anything,” Castiel spoke up.

Raphael glanced at him, then looked back at Alfie. “The Hood and his band aren’t some minstrel show passing through town. They’re murderers, thieves. And if you’re protecting them, you’ll pay.”

Alfie nodded furiously and Zachariah let out a rough laugh. Castiel studied the saddle blanket and heard Alfie stand. “I’ll… I’ll leave you to your supper,” Alfie stammered, then walked away. The doors creaked as he left the stable.

“Imbecile,” Rafael muttered. 

“These peasants are fucking idiots.” Zachariah took a swig of ale. “No respect for Prince John or the Sheriff.” Castiel picked a piece of hay off his tunic. “Right, Castiel?”

Castiel looked up to see Zachariah and Raphael watching him, Zachariah with a uniquely cutting look in his eyes. “Um, well,” he started.

“What, are you a Hood sympathizer as well?” Rafael asked.

“No! No.”

“Then you agree common folk don’t need a savior,” Zachariah pressed. “They need someone like Prince John to rule them and keep them in line, make sure they don’t get any ideas in their head. Like, say, that just anyone can become a knight. Even a poor, dirty, peasant boy whose mother—”

“Alright! Stop it! Yes, you’re right.” Castiel’s heart thumped as he looked at Zachariah, begging him silently to keep quiet. Raphael snickered and Zachariah smirked, then began to laugh.

Losing his appetite, Castiel stood and left the stable. Outside, he leaned on the wall and breathed in the cool night air. So Raphael knew, and most likely a dozen other squires. He wondered if Gabriel had heard as well. 

Crossing his arms against the wind, he felt a hatred rising in him towards Zachariah, the squires, the knights, even Dean—no, not Dean. Never Dean.

He spotted Alfie sitting on a woodpile along the side of the inn. He wondered if Alfie had been telling the truth when he said he saw the Hood.

“Hey,” Castiel said, walking to him. He gestured to the barn. “Sorry about those two.” 

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Alfie said. He looked at Castiel warily. “Do you hate the Hood too?”

 _It’s complicated,_ Castiel thought. Aloud, he said, “I want to believe he’s not as evil as everyone says.”

“He’s not a bad man,” Alfie said hotly. “He’s good.”

Castiel sat next to him. “Why do you say that?”

Alfie lowered his voice. “He comes here and brings money that he’s stolen. He helps people, like my family. We were behind on our taxes and he gave us enough to pay for a few more months.”

“He did that?”

“All the money he steals, it’s only to give back to the people who really need it. He’s helped everyone around these parts. All those tales about him killing people, they’re all lies.” He looked nervously at Castiel. “No disrespect to the Sheriff or Prince John, of course. I’m loyal to the crown.”

“Right, of course,” Castiel said, distractedly. He wanted it to be true, that Dean was good. And, deep down, he knew he believed it. He shifted to look at Alfie and spoke quickly, lowering his voice, “Listen, this is supposed to be a secret, but we’re not traveling to collect taxes. We’re after the Hood. The Sheriff’s a few towns over and the second the Hood shows his face, there’ll be hoards of knights all over the place.” Alfie’s eyes widened. 

“And,” Castiel added, “it’d be a real shame if the Sheriff’s plans were found out and the Hood decided to keep low for a bit.” He searched Alfie’s face and Alfie slowly nodded. Castiel stood.

“Thanks,” Alfie said. Castiel nodded and Alfie got up and disappeared into the inn.

Opening the doors to the stable, Castiel grabbed a lantern hanging on the wall. He climbed up to the loft and lay down away from Zachariah and Raphael. His heart pounded at the thought of what he had done. If anyone found out... He rolled over onto his side and stared out at the dark interior of the stable.

Memories flitted through his mind: his and Dean’s eyes meeting across the square, Dean taking his hand, Dean asking him to join him in Sherwood Forest. He didn’t know much about Dean, it was true, but he knew Dean had a good heart, that much was evident. And Castiel knew he had to trust his instincts.

The stable doors below creaked as wind threatened to push them open and Castiel understood what he needed to do. He was going to leave. He was going to Sherwood Forest.


	5. The Squire Turned Runaway

The moon was partially obscured by clouds when Castiel crept out of the barn and eased the door shut. Light, laughter, and voices poured from the inn’s windows and Castiel stuck to the shadows as he snuck past.

He had stuffed his blanket into his pack and grabbed food from Sir Ishim’s saddlebags. Would the knights come after him? He doubted it, focused as they were on finding the Hood. He’d never heard of a squire running away and could only imagine Sir Ishim’s face when he realized Castiel was missing. The mental image gave Castiel a strange satisfaction, and he found himself smiling as he walked down the road out of town. 

Looking up at the sky, he figured he had several hours before daylight, at which time he would need to retreat into the woods. He had no idea how to get to Sherwood Forest, but his first stop would be the next town over. He wasn’t going anywhere without finding Gabriel first. Though he didn’t expect Gabriel to join him, he had to at least say goodbye.

When the sky lightened and his shadow stretched on the ground before him, he ducked into the woods and continued traveling hidden from view of the road. The farther he got from the knights, the more the realization of what he was doing dawned on him. He felt almost giddy at his escape.

The sun hovered over the horizon when he finally reached the next town. The main street was already bustling with farmers parking their carts and offering their wares. Castiel hesitantly made his way down the street and caught sight of Sir Bartholomew stumbling down porch steps to an inn, rubbing his hand over his face. Leaving the main street, Castiel went around the back of the inn and waited in the trees behind the stable for Gabriel to emerge. When Gabriel did, he was too preoccupied with the horses and surrounded by others for Castiel to approach him. Impatiently, Castiel waited, finally getting his chance when Gabriel walked to the outhouse behind the stable.

“Gabe!” he called, taking a step out of the woods. 

Noticing him, Gabriel stepped forward. “Cas?”

Castiel gestured for him to come into the woods and Gabriel glanced behind him to make sure no one was watching before joining him. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, stepping into the trees.

“I’ve decided to go to Sherwood Forest," Castiel said flatly.

Gabriel only stared at him, as if waiting for Castiel to say he was joking. When Castiel remained silent, Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck. “Shit, uh, alright.” He looked back at the inn.

“I know it’s crazy,” Castiel said. “But I would never forgive myself if Dean was captured and hung and I had a hand in it.” Gabriel looked at him. “I’m not asking you to come with me, but I needed to tell you.”

“I guess it’s too late to ask you to rethink this?” Castiel nodded and Gabriel sighed, throwing his hands up. “I guess I’m coming too.”

“Gabe, I didn't come here to make you go with me—”

“You really thought I would let my best friend join the Hood without me?” He stepped out of the woods. “Wait here, I’ll grab my pack.” He headed back to the barn and Castiel watched him, feeling shocked. It was no easy decision to leave, yet Gabriel had made it quickly enough. Maybe he was more reckless than Castiel had thought. 

In a few minutes, Gabriel reappeared. “They’re still getting their shit together,” he said. “They won’t notice I’m gone for a while.”

"Are you sure about this?" Castiel pressed. 

"Pretty sure," Gabriel said. He grinned at Castiel and they began picking their way through the woods. “You are crazy, though. You know that, right?” 

“Yeah, I know.” Castiel hadn’t wanted to admit it, but he'd dreaded the idea of leaving Gabriel behind. He smiled a little.

“You sure you’re feeling alright? I’m not even sure I’m talking to the Castiel I know.”

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t understand what the hell I’m doing either.” Castiel stepped over some roots and grinned at Gabriel.

“The things we do for love,” Gabriel sighed. Castiel hit his arm and he laughed. 

After Gabriel ventured onto the road to ask a passing friar the way towards Sherwood Forest, they passed the rest of the day within the woods. When night fell, they laid out their blankets and fell asleep to the sound of distant thunder. Well, Gabriel fell asleep. Castiel was filled with an antsy energy that kept him awake most of the night; fear and excitement combined making his heart beat fast at this traitorous act against the crown, at the thought of seeing Dean again. 

The thunder’s forewarning was fulfilled when it began to rain the following day, at first soft and thin through the treetops, then a steady, pattering rainfall. The ground turned soft under their shoes and Castiel gave up trying to keep his pack dry. If their food got wet, so be it. 

They sheltered under a large oak tree at night, hoping the thick branches would deter some rain, but they were soon soaked to the bone. 

“This Dean better be worth it,” Gabriel said, hunching his shoulders to protect his neck.

“I hope so.” Castiel had covered himself with his blanket but, waterlogged as it was, it seemed to only make him wetter. “I’m not expecting anything. From Dean. He might have forgotten about me for all I know. Who knows, maybe it won’t even work out.” He frowned. “His band might be really strange. Maybe we’ll end up leaving after a few days.”

“Woah, Cas, just let it play out. Don’t worry.”

Castiel nodded. Despite his uncertain words, an impatient restlessness filled him at the thought of seeing Dean again. “How far away are we from the Forest?”

“Two days' walk?”

Too long. Even if they were on horses, racing down the road, Castiel knew they couldn’t travel fast enough to finally see Dean again.

The rain continued well into the afternoon of the next day, making the air muggy as the day grew warmer. Gabriel began to cough and woke up the next morning with a headache. 

“I hope you’re not getting sick,” Castiel said as they pushed their way through some stubborn underbrush.

“I think the ship has sailed with that one.” Gabriel sneezed and swore, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Dean of Locksley better be one fucking incredible human being,” he muttered. 

They reached Sherwood Forest that night. They camped close to the road and upon waking the next morning, decided it was best to follow the road curving through the Forest. If they tried to plunge into the woods, they might grow so lost they would never find their way out. They walked on the road until it began to fill with travelers, then walked alongside it, hidden in the trees. 

Castiel was worried. The woods stretched on for miles—they had seen that much the day before when they crested a long hill and saw the brief patches of farmland abruptly end, replaced with dark green trees until the horizon. How would they ever find this camp Dean had spoken of?

Then, as if called forth by Castiel's growing concern, voices rose on the road. Castiel stopped, listening.

“What?” Gabriel asked.

“I think—” He hurried to the road and saw two travelers passing, one a redheaded woman and the other a vaguely familiar face.

“That maiden is part of the Hood’s band,” he said to Gabriel. “And that’s… Benny. Remember? He was with Dean in Nottingham?”

He stepped forward, past the trees and Gabriel followed him. “Excuse me,” he called and the young woman and Benny turned. 

Castiel addressed Benny. “I don’t know if you recall, but you stopped in Nottingham a few months ago. Your name is Benny, right?”

“And how would you know that?” Benny asked, frowning. Castiel noticed the bows and quivers he and the woman wore slung across their backs.

He gestured to Gabriel. “We live in Nottingham, well, _lived_ there. We met at the archery contest? Dean of Locksley won, you were traveling with him.”

The redheaded woman glanced sharply at Benny and Benny took a step forward. “What do you want?”

Perhaps it was better he just came out with it. “I know who Dean is. I know he’s the Hood.” 

Benny grabbed his bow and Castiel took a step back, raising his hands. “No, I’m on your side. Dean, he, he told me I was welcome here.”

“Wait a moment,” the redheaded woman said. “You’re not Castiel, are you?”

Castiel looked at her, frowning. And how did she know that? “Yes, that’s me.” 

The redheaded woman hit Benny on the arm. “Benny! This is the bloke Dean told us about!” She looked at Castiel. “I’m Charlie. It’s nice to meet you.”

Benny eyed Gabriel. “Hold on, then who are you?” 

“Gabriel,” he said. “We met in Nottingham as well. You don’t remember?”

“No,” Benny said flatly. “What the hell are you two doing in Sherwood Forest?"

Castiel sensed Gabriel bristle beside him at Benny's tone. "We thought we could come to your camp?" Castiel said hesitantly, addressing Charlie since Benny seemed unlikely to agree to such a thing.

"Of course," Charlie said brightly. "We're on our way back there now. Dean will be happy to see you two decided to pay a visit.” At this mention of Dean, Castiel's stomach fluttered.

“We’ll have to blindfold them,” Benny said. “We can’t just bring anyone into camp.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Charlie argued. “Dean’s vetted them. We can trust them.” She looked at Castiel and Gabriel. “Right?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Castiel said and Gabriel nodded.

Charlie led the way down the road and Castiel hastened to walk at her side. “I’ve seen you before too. I was there when you robbed the Count of Redfield’s caravan.”

She studied him. “You do look familiar. Hope we didn’t scare you too bad.”

“No, no.” She left the road, plunging into the forest and he followed. “How many are there of you at your camp?”

“Only seven of us. Eight, counting Dean.”

“That’s a whole lot less than I figured,” Gabriel said.

“Seems to be more everyday,” Benny muttered behind them.

“The more people hear of the Hood, the more want to join our band. I only joined a year ago.” Charlie jabbed a thumb over her shoulder at Benny. “He’s known Dean for ages.”

“Long before he was called the Hood,” Benny said.

They walked for what seemed like hours as Charlie dithered on—about what, Castiel couldn’t say with the way his mind wandered. He felt almost sick with nervous energy. To finally see Dean again, after so long… 

They reached a river and Charlie remarked, “Camp’s just past those trees.” Castiel gripped the strap of his pack over his shoulder and glanced at Gabriel. Gabriel grinned at him.

They broke into a clearing. At one end was a massive oak tree, its roots exposed and rippling out of the ground. Tents stood along the sides of the clearing and a large fire burned in a pit in the middle. A deer roasted over the flames and a young, blonde man stirring a pot looked up as they approached. 

“Who’s this?” he asked, looking at Gabriel and Castiel. Castiel recognized him as one of the band members who had robbed the Count of Redfield.

“Gabriel and Castiel,” Charlie said. “They’re here to see Dean. Where is he?”

The man pointed with his spoon. “By the tree last time I saw him.” He looked at Castiel and Gabriel. “I’m David.”

“Hi,” Gabriel said. Distracted, Castiel only nodded at him, anxiously scanning the tree. He recognized Little John standing next to it, but there was no sign of Dean.

Charlie and Gabriel started walking in that direction and Castiel made to follow, when a familiar voice made his heart skip a beat.

“Castiel!” 

Castiel turned and saw Dean entering the clearing. His feet felt rooted to the ground as Dean walked over to him. “What are you doing here?” Dean asked. His eyes searched Castiel’s and he seemed genuinely surprised.

“I, um… I thought I might take you up on your invitation.” His heart pounded as he waited for Dean’s response.

“I can’t believe it.” Breaking into a smile, Dean stepped forward and pulled Castiel into a hug. Castiel froze up again, but managed to lift his arms to touch Dean’s back. “It’s so good to see you,” Dean said, stepping away. 

Castiel couldn’t keep eye contact with him so he looked away and pointed to Gabriel. “I brought my friend. Gabriel.” Gabriel smiled and waved.

“I remember you,” Dean said. “We met in Nottingham, right?” 

“That’s me.” 

Dean looked at Castiel again. “Are you two passing through with your knights? I heard there’s a couple of them around.”

“No, actually...” Castiel glanced at Gabriel for help and Gabriel indicated for him to keep talking. Very helpful. He looked back at Dean. “Our knights are searching for you and your band so we ran away to warn you.” He paused. “I know now that you’re the Hood.”

Dean nodded slowly. “I knew you recognized me, when we robbed that caravan. I couldn’t tell you back in Nottingham—you understand, don’t you?”

Castiel nodded. What he had to say next suddenly seemed too absurd. “I thought, well, that we might stay here? If that’s alright, if you want us here, I know it’s sudden—”

“There’s always room here for more,” Dean said. He looked around and Castiel realized they had attracted a crowd. “This is Castiel and Gabriel,” he announced. “They’re welcome here for as long they want to stay.” He smiled at Castiel and Castiel smiled back, relieved.

David announced then that supper was ready so Dean motioned for Castiel and Gabriel to take a seat near the fire. He began introducing everyone and Castiel struggled to keep up with everyone's names. _This can’t be real_ , he thought, glancing at Dean over and over, almost too overwhelmed, too happy, too surprised to speak. 

Little John greeted them, shaking Castiel’s hand in a painful grip. He shook his finger at Gabriel. “I remember you well enough. That night in Nottingham was a wild one for sure.” Gabriel grinned.

A young, wiry man handed them bowls of food. _Will Stutley_ , Castiel thought _,_ trying to remember the introductions. _David’s younger brother._

“So what’s happened since I saw you last?” Dean asked Castiel, sitting next to him and nudging his arm. 

Castiel felt a shiver run down his spine. “Not much, I suppose,” he said, trying to act casual.

“He had a minor crisis learning you were the Hood,” Gabriel spoke up. Castiel glared at him. 

“I’m sorry about that,” Dean said, looking embarrassed. “I wanted to tell you—”

“No, I understand. It just… caught me by surprise.” Castiel glared at Gabriel again. 

On his right, Anna, another redhead, said, “So, you two are both squires?”

“Were,” Gabriel said. “I don’t think the knights will want us back now that we’ve run away.”

“You two help the knights capture a lot of outlaws?” Benny asked, sitting down across from them. “Collect taxes from starving families?” He stared Castiel down.

“That’s more the knights’ purview,” Gabriel said shortly. “We left the Sheriff’s service because we didn’t want to end up like them.”

“And it was right honorable of you to do so,” Little John said, frowning at Benny.

Dean spoke up. “Little John worked in King Richard’s castle in London.”

“That I did,” Little John said. “Then Prince John took over and I left. I met Dean one fateful day while traveling through this forest, searching for work.”

“We had a disagreement and it turned to blows.” Dean grinned at Little John. “He’s one of few to best me in a fight. Nearly broke open my crown with his cudgel.”

“That’s right,” Little John laughed. “But he put up such a fight I had to know his name. Imagine my surprise when he revealed he was the fearsome Hood.” He smiled affectionately at Dean. “Had nothing better to do, thought I may as well join him and raise some hell.”

He launched into a story about being chased by knights after they suspected him of being part of the Hood’s band. Castiel realized the story he had told in Nottingham, of a robbery, was of a robbery the band had committed. 

He looked around at the band, at this group of outlaws. They were young, not at all fearsome like the tales told of them made them out to be. And now Castiel was associating with them. Maybe Gabriel was right, maybe he had knocked his head and lost his senses. And yet, sitting next to Dean, he couldn’t regret his decision to come here at all.

The glade grew dark and the fire illuminated everyone’s faces, casting long shadows behind them. Gabriel seemed ready to nod off and Castiel found himself stifling a yawn.

Dean glanced at him and Gabriel and stood. “Let’s let Castiel and Gabriel get some rest,” he said. Castiel looked up at him gratefully.

Saying goodnight to everyone, Castiel and Gabriel followed Dean to a tent on the far right outskirt of the glade. “I hope you don’t mind sharing,” Dean said, “We don’t have enough tents for everyone to get their own.”

“This is fine,” Castiel said. “Thank you.” 

Gabriel crawled inside the tent and Castiel hesitated before following him. He didn't know what he wanted to say to Dean. It'd been weeks since their meeting in Nottingham, and who knew what had changed since. He didn't want to assume that he'd taken up as much space in Dean's mind as Dean had in his. "I hope it's alright that we're here," he said. "I hadn't planned on taking you up on your offer, but I just couldn't work for the Sheriff anymore." That wasn't what he wanted to say at all. He'd made it sound like coming here was his absolute last choice.

"Don't worry," Dean said. He seemed to hesitate. "I know that this," he gestured to the glade, "isn’t what you’re used to. But I hope you and Gabriel enjoy it here anyway.”

“We will, I think,” Castiel said, looking around the glade. Perhaps it'd been foolish to hope he and Dean would fall back immediately into the intimacy of that night long ago. Everything was different now, they were different; Castiel wasn't a squire anymore and Dean wasn't merely an archer.

But when he looked back at Dean, Dean's smile ignited his hope once again.

"Goodnight, Castiel," Dean said, and hearing his name fall off Dean's lips made a shiver run down his spine.

"Goodnight," Castiel said and watched Dean walk back to the fire where some of the outlaws still sat.

Sighing, he went inside the tent and Gabriel moved over to make room for him. Two blankets had been placed inside with a candle in its holder.

“This place isn’t half bad.” Gabriel elbowed him. “Dean seemed happy to see you.”

“Did he?” Castiel blew out the candle and lay down next to Gabriel.

Gabriel snorted. “Oh, brother. We’re in for the long haul, aren’t we?” 

“What do you mean?” Castiel asked, but Gabriel only laughed and rolled over. 

Castiel didn’t know what Gabriel was going on about. He pulled one of the blankets up to his chin. So they were finally here, in Sherwood Forest at last. With the Hood’s band. More importantly, with Dean. His heart raced a little as the realization of what he had done sank in. But there was no turning back now. He could only hope it would turn out all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading :) I would love to hear your thoughts and you can always come chat with me at my [tumblr](https://expectingtofly.tumblr.com/)


	6. Part 2: Sherwood Forest

On his first day in the outlaws' camp in Sherwood Forest, Castiel blinked awake at the sound of activity outside the tent he and Gabriel shared. Outside, the sun had risen past the treetops, and Dean and a few others were gathered around the fire. 

“Morning,” Charlie said when Castiel walked over. Dean turned from where he was sitting and smiled up at him. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine. Oh. Thank you.” He took the bowl of porridge David handed him. “Gabriel’s a bit sick, though, I think. We got caught in the rain traveling here.”

“There’s a patch of anise nearby,” David said. “I can use it to make some tea for him. It might help.”

“Thanks, that’d be great.” Castiel stood awkwardly for a moment, then sat next to Dean.

Benny came over, yawning and running his hands through his hair. He ladled porridge from the pot over the fire.

Anna wiped her hands on her tunic and stood. “Charlie and I are going to head into town to get supplies.”

Dean nodded, but Castiel spoke up, “Is that wise? There're knights out there looking for you guys.”

Anna and Charlie looked at Dean, and Benny said, “There’s always someone after us.”

“No,” Dean said. “Castiel has a point, there’s more out there than usual. How about you two go down to the road and scout things out, try to learn where the knights are right now?” He looked at David. “We can last a few days without any new supplies, right?”

David nodded. “We’re low on flour so we might have to go without any biscuits, but other than that, we’re good.”

Anna extended her hand and pulled Charlie up off the ground. “You know anything about where the Sheriff is now?” she asked Castiel.

“Last I heard, he was in London.”

“Probably exploring his own ass,” Benny said, eliciting laughs.

“That or sucking off his Lordship Prince John,” Charlie said. She changed to a high-pitched voice. “Don’t kill me! I promise, I’ll capture the Hood.”

A little shocked, Castiel looked at everyone laughing. He couldn’t imagine anyone saying such blasphemy back in Nottingham Castle.

“Where is Little John?” Benny asked, looking around. “We’re supposed to go hunting today.”

Unable to hide his shock any longer, Castiel asked, “You guys hunt the Prince’s deer?”

Benny snorted. “They’re no more the Prince’s deer than anyone else’s.”

“The Sheriff wants us dead for everything else already,” Dean said, smiling at Castiel. “What’s one more thing?”

“Well, we’re off,” Charlie said. She and Anna walked away, greeting Will as he came out of his tent.

David stood, placing his bowl in the pile of dirty dishes. “I’ll go gather that anise now.”

“And what are you doing today?” Benny asked and Castiel realized he was staring at him.

“Oh, I don’t know.” He glanced at Dean. “If you need me to do anything, I can—”

“No, you just got here,” Dean said, frowning at Benny. 

Benny set his bowl down. “Dean, can I talk to you?” Dean sighed and followed him a few feet away. Castiel looked over his shoulder at them but couldn’t hear what they were saying.

“Don’t pay attention to him, he’s got a stick up his ass.” Castiel turned and realized Will had come over to the fire. 

“Oh, alright.” He stared down at his empty bowl. Dean returned and he resisted the urge to ask what Benny had said.

“Morning, Will,” Dean said. He looked down at Cas. “I’m on washing dishes duty. You wanna come with me?”

As they left the glade, Dean spoke up, “Sorry Benny’s giving you a hard time. He’s wary of people new to our camp.” He lugged a basket filled with dirty dishes from that morning and the night before.

“I understand,” Castiel said. “He has no reason to trust me and Gabriel, especially with us being squires and all.”

“Well, I trust you, and the others do too,” Dean said. Castiel flushed a little and didn’t know what to say to that.

They reached the river and Dean handed Castiel a plate from the basket. Kneeling on the bank, Castiel scrubbed the plate with the rag and soap Dean had brought.

“So, is this how you guys fill your day?” he asked. “Hunting and cleaning?”

“Not very exciting, huh?” Dean asked, setting aside a bowl he had cleaned.

“No, I didn’t mean it that way,” Castiel said quickly. “I’m used to this. I’ve had to clean up after knights for years now.”

“Don’t worry, I promise living here is a lot more exciting than being a squire. Whenever someone rich passes through the Forest, which is happening less and less now that we’re gaining a reputation, we make sure to pay our respects and collect a fee for traveling through these woods. You can join us, if you want, now that you’re here.” Dean fell silent and sat back on his heels. “I guess you’ve already seen us in action. It must have come as a shock to realize I was the Hood.”

“A bit,” Castiel said, focusing on the plate in his hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything at the time. Everything happened so fast and I didn’t notice you until the last moment, and I thought... well. I thought there was nothing I could really say.”

Castiel nodded. He placed the clean plate next to the other clean dishware and glanced at Dean. "Back in Nottingham, you asked me to join you and your friends—"

Looking embarrassed, Dean interrupted, "I know, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked you to join us. You had no idea I was the Hood, it was an idiotic thing to do."

 _So Dean hadn't meant it after all._ Castiel reddened remembering the way he'd wanted to say yes. He ducked his head to wash another plate.

“Why _did_ you come here?” Dean asked and Castiel panicked inwardly. Dean didn't want him here; he was an idiot for thinking he could come to the Forest, join their band.

Dean must've seen some distressed emotion pass over his face because he added quickly, "Fuck, I didn't mean it that way. I'm glad you're here, just... I can’t imagine you’ve heard much good about our band. And it must not have been an easy decision to leave the castle.”

 _It was easier than you know_ , Castiel thought. Aloud, he said, “I’ve never really loved being a squire. And I realized I don’t want to be a knight, especially not for Prince John.” He stared intently at the plate in his hands. “And I have heard good things about you, that you’re helping people. When I had to join the knights searching for you, to hang you, I… I just couldn’t be part of it,” he finished lamely. Dean was watching him and Castiel grabbed another bowl from the basket and began cleaning it.

Dean held out his hand for the soap. “Gabriel didn’t want to become a knight either?” Castiel handed the soap to him, meeting Dean’s eyes as he did so, and felt the slide of Dean’s fingers across his palm. 

He focused and turned back to the river. “No, I suppose not,” he answered. “I’m surprised he joined me. He thought I was crazy for wanting to come.”

Dean laughed. “You two been friends for a while?”

“Since I arrived at the castle. He helped me learn the ropes of the place, though he’s probably not the best influence. He was always convincing me to break the castle rules. He was the one who made me go to that May Day celebration.”

“Well, I’m glad he did.” 

Castiel glanced at Dean. Dean caught his eye and seemed to become flustered. “I mean, you wouldn’t be here now, right? If we hadn’t met that night?”

“No,” Castiel responded. They fell silent and Castiel rinsed the bowl in the river, watched the sunlight glint off the splashing.

When they returned to the glade, Castiel went to check on Gabriel and found him sitting under the large oak tree talking to David. 

“How are you feeling?” Castiel asked, sitting next to him on one of the tree’s exposed roots. 

“Better.” Gabriel held up a mug. “David’s trying to convince me to drink this tea even though it tastes like piss.” David laughed. 

“Just drink it,” Castiel said. Gabriel made a face and took a sip.

“I was telling Gabriel,” David said to Castiel, “I only arrived here a month ago, so I’m still getting used to things too.”

“Why did you come here?” Castiel asked.

“Did it to help my parents. They run a bakery, and I met Dean when he came to our shop. I didn’t know who Dean was at the time, but he paid triple the amount he was due and did the same at every place he visited in town, so he made an impression. He kept coming back and eventually we learned he was the Hood. He invited me and Will to join his band, so we did.” Castiel frowned and looked at him sharply. Unaware, David continued, “Now, whenever we collect money from the rich, I send some to my mother. It’s more than she’s ever earned before.”

Gabriel asked David how much money they had collected from the rich, but Castiel wasn’t listening.

He wasn’t the only one Dean had invited to Sherwood Forest. But why had he ever assumed he was? Of course Dean would recruit people to join his band of outlaws. 

He focused back on Gabriel and David’s conversation but couldn’t help wonder if anything else that had happened the night he and Dean met was theirs alone.

* * *

Anna and Charlie returned later that afternoon with news that a group of knights was passing through Sherwood Forest and another group was moving towards Lincoln.

“We saw Maiden Margaret and she said word has been spreading that the knights are searching for us,” Charlie said, sitting under the tree where everyone had congregated. “No one from her town revealed anything when the knights passed through, far as she knows.”

“You think they’ll move on soon?” Dean asked Castiel. 

“If they don’t discover a reason to stay, I don’t see why not,” he answered shortly, then felt bad. It wasn’t Dean’s fault he had read so much into the night they had met. 

Dean didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. “I trust the townsfolk we’ve helped,” he was saying. “Besides, no one knows where our camp is exactly. Even if the knights manage to narrow it down to Sherwood Forest, there’s still miles for them to cover.”

“Heyoo!” Castiel looked up to see Little John and Benny coming into the glade, dragging a deer behind them.

“Took you long enough!” Will called. He dropped down from where he was perched in the tree. 

“We had to make sure we got the best,” Little John said, letting go of the deer by the fire and wiping his hands on his tunic.

“Good thing you and Gabriel came and told us about the knights,” Dean said to Castiel, drawing his attention. “We might have gone to town and walked right into them.” 

Castiel nodded, forced himself to smile. _It doesn’t matter,_ he told himself. Everything he'd assumed didn't matter. He was here now with Dean and his band. He should be content with just that.

* * *

The next day, everyone stayed at camp to avoid running into any knights. They had enough venison to last them a long time and, with luck, the knights in Sherwood Forest would soon be gone.

Castiel sat under the oak tree with everyone else, listening to Allan recount the legend of Sir George. Before joining the Hood, he had made a living as a traveling bard, and Charlie and Anna had begged him to tell them one of his tales. 

Listening to the tale, Castiel plucked the grass in front of him. A few feet away, Dean lay in the grass staring up at the sky. Castiel looked up too and watched the leaves above them bow and rise in a breeze. 

“And having rescued the princess and slew the dragon, Sir George returned home and wed the lovely princess in a land now free from evil,” Allan finished. Lulled by the warmth of the day, everyone stayed silent for a moment. 

“Makes you wonder why knights nowadays aren’t more like Sir George,” Will said.

“Plenty of knights are noble,” Allan said. 

Will shook his head. “None that I’ve met.”

“Alright,” Dean said, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. “No time for lounging around, getting soft. What says you all to some sparring?” He stood and grabbed two cudgels leaning against the oak tree.

“Long as I don’t have to go against Little John,” Charlie said from where she lay with her head on Anna’s lap. Anna yawned and shook her head as Dean held out one of the cudgels to her.

“Which one of the newbies wants to take me on?” Benny said. Everyone looked at Castiel and Gabriel.

“I’m going to have to pass,” Gabriel said. “You know, being sick and all.” He grinned at Castiel. 

“Thanks a lot,” Castiel muttered. 

Benny stood and took a cudgel from Dean. “You and me, then, Castiel.”

“Oh, I’m alright,” Castiel started. 

Gabriel shoved his shoulder. “Come on, Cas. Show us what you learned in training.”

Castiel gave him a searing look and stood. He caught the cudgel Dean tossed to him.

“There you go,” Anna cheered. Castiel tried to ignore the fact that everyone was watching him and instead looked at Benny standing a few feet away.

“You know the rules,” Dean said. “First to get their weapon knocked out of their hands loses.”

Benny smacked his cudgel on his palm and glared at Castiel. _Fuck my life_ , Castiel thought.

“Go!” Charlie cheered. Benny took a step closer and Castiel gripped the cudgel tighter. Then Benny lunged forward, swinging his weapon. Castiel blocked the blow, though he felt the reverberations through his arms. He swung at Benny and Benny parried, hitting Castiel on the chest with a blow that knocked him onto his ass.

Castiel pushed himself to his feet amid laughter, the loudest of which was coming from Gabriel. He caught sight of Dean ducking his head to hide a smile. 

“That the best you got?” Benny asked, smirking.

Face reddening, Castiel swung at Benny twice, Benny blocking both blows. Then Benny returned with a strike to Castiel’s side which sent Castiel stumbling back.

 _Fuck this_ , he thought, feeling a pain in his ribs as he straightened.

“Come on, Cas!” Gabriel yelled. 

“Yeah, come on, Cas,” Benny taunted. Castiel glared at him but didn’t make a move. Lunging forward, Benny swung his cudgel, and Castiel sidestepped the blow, sending Benny off-balance. Turning, he struck Benny on the back and Benny crashed to the ground, his cudgel falling out of his hands.

Gabriel whooped as everyone cheered. Castiel grinned despite himself.

“Looks like you’ve gotten rusty,” Dean said to Benny, laughing at him.

“Bullshit,” Benny said, sitting up and rubbing his back. “Beginner’s luck.” Castiel picked Benny’s cudgel off the ground and held it out to him. Benny looked up and snatched it away.

“You alright?” Dean asked, grinning, as Castiel sat back down next to him. 

“Yeah, just fine.” Gabriel clapped him on the back and Castiel winced, making Dean laugh.

Anna passed him a bag of ale. “Thanks for knocking him down a peg,” she said, nodding at Benny as he squared off against Will. 

“My pleasure.” 

Dean nudged him. “We’ll have to have an archery contest sometime, see if you’re a natural at that too.”

Castiel reddened and Gabriel spoke up, “Don’t get your hopes up, he’s not.” Dean laughed and Castiel rolled his eyes.

* * *

They ate supper as the shadows of the forest trees lengthened and crickets filled the trees with their chorus. Charlie talked about a friar she and Anna had seen the other day while watching the highway through the Forest. A beggar had crossed his path and the friar had aimed a kick at him. 

“I would’ve liked to kick that friar himself, right where it’d hurt most,” Charlie said fiercely. 

“I wished we’d had money with us to give to the beggar,” Anna said.

“You know,” Allan said, “A knight could disguise himself as a beggar to get information on us.”

“No knight would do that,” Gabriel interjected. “They’re too stuck up.”

Castiel watched them argue about whether the knights had any spies roaming the land and startled when Dean touched his arm. 

“You wanna go somewhere else?” he asked, reminding Castiel of sitting on that low stone wall in Nottingham as voices and music from the main square spread through the streets. He nodded. 

They left the glade, entering the canopy of the trees which crowded the dark blue sky and filled the air with the scents of fir and juniper. Stepping around a stone covered in moss, Castiel felt his arm brush Dean’s.

“It seems I hardly know anything about you,” Dean said, breaking the silence. Reaching a wide, fallen tree, he pulled himself up onto the crumbling bark and sat. He looked down at Castiel. “We haven’t had a chance to talk alone since Nottingham.”

“What do you want to know?” Castiel asked. He climbed onto the log next to Dean and Dean gave him his hand to pull him up. They sat with their feet dangling over the forest floor.

“I don’t know.” Dean looked up at the sky in thought and Castiel felt a twinge of anxiety over what he would ask. “What is your favorite color?” Dean asked, lowering his head to look at Castiel.

With a sense of relief, Castiel thought of the color of Dean’s eyes but felt sheepish and answered instead, “I don't know. Um, red.”

“Alright, your turn," Dean said, shifting to look at him. "Ask me something.”

“Uh, what’s _your_ favorite color?”

“Green.” Dean thought for a moment. “Favorite food?”

That was an easy one to answer. “When my mother made bread, we would always eat the first ones to come out of the oven and she would drench them in honey.” 

A memory flashed in his head. Sitting across from his mother, eating the warm rolls, his feet not reaching the floor from his chair. His mother smiling at him from across the table and licking honey off her fingers, leaning forward to brush his hair out of his face. _Eat it quickly so it doesn’t burn your fingers._

The memory gave him a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach and he returned to the present. “And yours?” he asked.

“Anything my mother baked. I remember her making pies. That’d be my favorite. Are you going to let your mother and father know you’re not a squire anymore?”

Castiel looked down at his boots. “My parents aren’t around anymore. My mother died six years ago.”

“Oh.” Dean didn’t respond for a moment. “My parents are gone too.”

Castiel looked at him. Dean was scraping at the bark on the tree. “Did they know you were the Hood?”

“No, all this," he gestured to the Forest and the glade beyond the trees, "happened after they passed away.” He shifted, pulled one leg up onto the log to face Castiel. “It’s my turn to ask a question.” He drummed the dark bark with his fingers. “Did you ever think about turning me in after finding out I was the Hood? I mean, you knew my name and that I stayed in Sherwood Forest.” He quickly added, “I don’t blame you if you did, I only wonder why you decided to join us instead.”

 _I could never do something like that to someone like you_ , Castiel thought. “It crossed my mind,” he admitted. “But I thought maybe the Sheriff was wrong, maybe you weren’t an evil outlaw. The knights were spreading plenty of lies about you. So I couldn’t tell anyone what I knew in good faith.”

“Well, thank you.” 

Castiel nodded and Dean stripped off a piece of bark and dropped it to the ground. There was a rustle in the underbrush and Castiel caught sight of the tail end of a rabbit disappearing into a shadowy cluster of grass.

This, sitting and talking with Dean, is what he'd wanted for so long. But now that he was here, his thoughts were jumbling together, distracting him from enjoying the moment. Perhaps to Dean he was just another recruit. Perhaps he'd always felt more towards Dean than Dean did towards him.

His foot hanging off the log bumped Dean’s and their eyes met for a moment. Dean smiled a little and Castiel felt his heart suddenly thump. It was strange, sitting next to Dean. Back at the castle, it had almost seemed like Dean was just a dream. And Castiel realized now it had been so much easier when Dean only existed in his head.

“We should head back,” Castiel said, dropping down from the log. “It’s getting late.” 

Dean nodded and they picked their way through the trees. He couldn't understand why Dean would ever feel the same way towards him, or even want him around. Castiel was just a squire—and now he didn't even have that title. He was just some peasant boy whose own family hadn't wanted him.

Dean spoke, pulling him from his depressing thoughts. “Alright, Cas, how much you wanna bet everyone is still arguing about the knights?”

Castiel glanced at him. _Cas._ Dean noticed his reaction. “It’s fine if I call you that, right? I heard Gabriel—”

“I don’t mind." He so wanted to believe he wasn't a complete fool, that the connection he felt with Dean wasn't completely in his head. He smiled at Dean as they walked into the glade. "I like the nickname.” And he could hope, couldn't he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! I always appreciate comments to let me know what you thought :)


	7. Robbing the Rich

“Alright, I can’t do it," Dean said, standing.

Castiel looked up at him from where they sat under the oak tree, stripping saplings to make into arrows. A few days had passed lazily since his and Gabriels's arrival, and Castiel had fallen into the rhythm of life in Sherwood Forest. Nottingham, Sir Ishim, it all seemed to have happened ages ago.

“I’m going stir-crazy having to stay in camp,” Dean continued. “Let’s go into town.”

“But the knights—”

“We’ve waited long enough, the knights have moved on by now.” Dean extended his hand. “Come on, I’ll take you to meet one of our band’s closest allies.”

Curious, Castiel took Dean’s hand and let him pull him to his feet. “Who?”

“She’s an innkeeper in Laxton, a few miles from here. Whenever we need information or a place to hide, she helps us.” Walking past David and Charlie, Dean announced, “Me and Castiel are going to see Widow Ellen. Should we pick up anything in town?”

“Oh, good,” David said. “We’re running low on supplies.”

“We’re also running low on funds,” Charlie said. “Maybe Anna and I will head out and find someone willing to donate to our work.”

As David rattled off a list of foodstuffs they needed, Benny walked over. “You guys headed into town?”

“Yeah, wanna come?” Dean asked. 

Benny glanced at Castiel. “Sure.”

Castiel hid his annoyance. Benny had been civil since their sparring, but Castiel still had the sense Benny didn’t like him very much—then again, he was used to being disliked, so why let it bother him?

He, Dean, and Benny left the glade and, after walking through the forest for some time, broke through onto the road and headed east out of Sherwood Forest. Afraid a knight would appear, Castiel tensed every time a traveler approached. But Dean had his bow and quiver strung across his back, and he and Benny seemed unworried, greeting people as they passed, so soon Castiel allowed himself to relax.

The day was bright and warm, and the sun was overhead when they left the shelter of the trees and took a road weaving through fields and farmland. Castiel listened to Dean and Benny speak of people and places whose names he didn’t recognize. He watched the animated way Dean spoke, his eyes seeming brighter when sunlight passed over them, when he laughed. Benny elbowed Dean with a jest Castiel didn’t understand, and Castiel remembered Benny saying he and Dean had known each other for a long time. Even if Benny hadn't told him, Castiel would have guessed by the way Benny and Dean interacted. With a pang of jealousy he didn’t want to admit, he watched the dust kicked up by their boots.

Cresting a long hill revealed the surrounding land spread out before them: fields of yellow grain rippling in the wind and lush green grass dotted with livestock. Farther out, past patches of dark green forest, near the horizon, Castiel saw a glimpse of silver and wondered if it was Nottingham. 

Dean pointed at a cluster of wooden roofs at the bottom of the hill. “That’s where Widow Ellen lives.” Then his gaze fell to a few yards down the road. Castiel followed his gaze, but all he noticed was a man approaching on horseback.

“What do you think of this fellow?” Dean asked. The man seemed no different than any other travelers they had passed. He was wearing a cloak and was slumped in his saddle as his worn horse trudged slowly up the hill.

“He’s not wearing any jewelry, but his clothes look too fine for that dark cloak,” Benny said. 

“Think he might be willing to share some excess wealth?” Dean asked and Castiel frowned, realizing they were scouting the man out to rob.

“Willing or not, he shall,” Benny said.

"Wait," Castiel spoke up. "If the knights find out the Hood robbed someone here—"

Benny rolled his eyes. "I'm starting to think the knights sent you here to stop us from robbing people."

"What? No—" Castiel started.

"Benny, stop being ridiculous," Dean cut in. He looked at Castiel. "We can't hide away forever, Cas. If we stop robbing the rich, the Sheriff wins."

"I guess so," Castiel said quietly, hating the smug look Benny gave him.

Dean put his bow and quiver behind the low stone wall bordering the road, and they sat down to wait. Castiel grew nervous as the sound of the traveler's approach grew louder, but Benny and Dean kept up a conversation, seemingly unoccupied.

The man appeared over the hill and Dean leaned over to Castiel. “See those spurs?” he asked quietly. “I don’t think you’d find those on any commoner.” Castiel spotted the flash of spurs as the man grew closer, then a flash of silver under the man’s cloak.

“Dean, he has a sword,” he whispered.

“For his sake, he should refrain from drawing it,” Benny said.

Dean smiled at Castiel. “Don’t worry, we’ve done this a few times.” Castiel nodded, trying to not show his consternation. 

The man looked up as he approached where they sat on the wall and a frown passed over his face. He pulled his cloak closer, as if to ward himself from them.

“Good day to you, sir,” Dean called. “Could you tell us which town lies down the hill there?”

“Laxton,” the man replied, not stopping his horse. 

“Is there an inn?” Benny asked. “We’ve recently come from London and don’t know these parts.”

“There is an inn,” the man said. He looked keenly at them. “London, you say?”

“That’s right,” Dean replied. “My uncle just died and left me a tidy sum, so I thought what better way to spend it than traveling throughout this fine land?”

The man jolted and looked around quickly. He pulled his horse to a halt and leaned towards them. “You best keep your mouth shut, knave. Don’t you know the Hood roams these parts? He’ll rob you blind if he catches whiff of the scent of money.”

“Is that so?” Dean asked. Despite his nerves, Castiel couldn't help a feeling of amusement at the look of innocence Dean turned on the man. “Have you seen the Hood? We were thinking of traveling through Sherwood Forest to see if we caught a glimpse of him and his band.”

The man looked further affronted. “Young knave, the Hood is not a jest. I haven’t seen him, thank his Holiness, but I’ve heard enough to know you should watch the way you speak.”

“But what does it matter to you?” Benny asked. “The Hood only robs the rich and, pardon me for saying so, it doesn’t seem you have much to offer in the way of wealth.”

The man chuckled. “That’s where you’re wrong.” He indicated the tired horse, his cloak. “These are only disguises to fool the Hood." He beckoned to them. "Here, come closer.” 

Dean and Benny stood, and Castiel was going to follow when Benny looked back at him and hissed, “Stay there.” Castiel sat back down on the wall.

When Dean and Benny went to the man's horse, the man pulled his cloak open. “See, this cloak has hidden pockets into which I have sewn my money.” He shook the cloak and Castiel heard a faint jingle. He laughed again. “I’ve been traveling a week now and no one has suspected.”

“That is clever,” Dean said, smiling. “Now, if you please, hand us the cloak.” Benny grabbed the horse’s bridle.

“What?” The man’s face turned red. “You knaves, whatever do you mean by this?”

“I think you were right about the Hood," Benny said. "He does seem to know exactly when there's money around."

“No, not you,” the man stuttered, staring at Dean. “You can't be him—”

“If it makes you feel better, you can pretend we’re only your typical highway robbers,” Dean said with a smile.

“Get back!” With a flourish, the man drew his sword and Dean stepped away from his horse.

“What? You would fight an unarmed man?” Dean asked.

“I would if he was a despicable outlaw like yourself.” The man glared at Dean, Benny, and Castiel in turn. “I said get back. If you wish to avoid injury to yourself, let me be on my way.”

“Fine, fine,” Dean said, holding up his hands. “Cas, hand me my bow and an arrow.” 

The man’s face paled as Castiel hastened to grab the weapons. Watching the man cautiously, hoping he was out of range of the sword, he stepped forward and handed them to Dean.

Dean nodded at Benny and he let go of the man’s horse. “Go, then, be on your way,” Dean said, casually putting an arrow to his bow.

“But, but,” the man stammered. Dean looked up at him. “You’ll kill me!”

Dean shrugged. “Is that what it will take to convince you to hand over your cloak? Or will an arrow to the back suffice?”

Holding his sword aloft, the man glared. “You bastards,” he said through gritted teeth and began to shrug off his cloak. 

“You can also drop that sword,” Benny said. The man glowered at him but did so. Benny picked it up and wiped dust from its hilt.

Unfastening his cloak, the man threw it to the ground and crossed his arms.

“Thank you,” Dean said. He picked the cloak up and tore one of the small hidden pockets open, a few coins tumbling into his palm. He held out the coins to the man. “For the rest of your travels.”

The man scoffed. “Is this a jest?” 

“No,” Dean said simply. 

The man’s face revealed an inward struggle between taking the money and cursing Dean. He finally acquiesced and snatched the coins from Dean's hand.

Dean smiled. “Have a good day,” he said. 

“Curse you,” the man said. “May you hang soon for your crimes against the innocent!”

Dean’s smile vanished. “Whatever my sins are, oppressing the innocent isn’t one of them.” He stepped back. “Be on your way.”

“I’m keeping this,” Benny said, holding up the sword. Muttering curses, the man snapped his reins and set off at a quick pace. 

They watched him until he reached the bottom of the hill they had just climbed. Castiel began to breathe easier. Dean shook the cloak and grinned at the jangle of coins. “I’d say that was a success.” 

He slung his bow across his back and they continued towards Laxton. Benny looked at the sword in his hands. “This is a nice upgrade from a cudgel.”

Dean nudged Castiel. “First robbery. What did you think?”

“I’m just glad it ended up alright," Castiel admitted. He ignored Benny rolling his eyes. “Would you have killed that man if he tried to escape?”

Something flashed across Dean’s face, an emotion Castiel couldn’t place before it was gone. “No.” He draped the cloak over his arm. “And that’s why I never ‘rob anyone blind,’ as they say. I’m not trying to impoverish or widow anyone.”

“Some of these rich assholes deserve to be killed,” Benny muttered and Dean shot him a glance.

Reaching Laxton, they made their way down the street to a squat building. Horses stood tied to hitching posts outside and smoke billowed out of the chimney. A sign hanging over the door indicated, by a rough carving of a tankard, that the establishment was an alehouse.

Dean led the way to the back of the alehouse where a door was propped open, revealing a dark kitchen inside. He knocked on the open door. 

A few moments later, a brown haired woman in a white apron appeared in the doorway. Her weary face brightened when she saw Dean and Benny. “If it isn’t Dean and his merry band,” she said with a smile. “Come here! It’s been so long since I last saw you.” 

She held out her arms and Dean hugged her. “Sorry, Ellen, we’ve been in hiding.”

“And right smart of you to do so,” she said, letting go of him. “Our inn was crawling with knights these past few weeks. Thank God they’re gone now.” Her eyes fell to Castiel standing behind Dean and Benny.

“This is Castiel, our newest member,” Dean said, putting his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. 

“Very nice to meet you.” Ellen stepped back. “I’m sure you boys are starving. It’s too warm in here so why don’t you make yourselves comfortable out there and I’ll tell Ash to set aside some food.”

They seated themselves in the shade of a flowering tree behind the alehouse and a young, blonde woman came out of the kitchen holding a pitcher.

“Dean and Benny, back again,” she said as way of greeting.

“Hello, Jo,” Dean said. “Meet Castiel.”

“Hi,” Castiel said as Jo set the pitcher down and sat next to them.

“Everyone in town’s been talking about you,” she said to Dean. “What with the knights passing through and all. Your band has a name now: the Merry Men.”

“What kind of name is that?” Benny asked. “As if all we did was make merry at our camp.”

“I knew you’d hate it,” Jo said with a grin. She looked at Castiel. “So, where are you from?”

“Um, well,” Castiel started, reluctant to share he was a runaway squire. He knew for a fact that the knights didn’t give a shit about him personally being gone, but, given the chance, they would punish him for it.

“Jo, you know better than to ask personal questions,” Ellen said, coming up with a platter of food and rescuing him from having to answer. Dean sprang up and took it from her. “Thank you. These boys are much too secretive. Though you all have to be, I suppose.” She gathered her skirts and sat. Wiping her forehead with her apron, she looked at Castiel. “So, you’re new to the band. Did Dean tell you how he and Benny stumbled here one night, what, a year ago now?”

“No, he didn’t.” Castiel took the food passed to him. 

“Well, one night in the winter it was snowing, cold as anything, and these two came here freezing and half-starved by the look of it, asking for shelter. I couldn’t just send them back outside, so I let them stay even though they didn’t have a pence between them.” 

She looked fondly at Dean and Benny. “I thought they might be beggars, but they seemed well-brought up, were very polite.” Dean shook his head smiling, looking embarrassed. “Anyway, they stayed for a few days because of the storm, then went on their way and I thought that was the end of it. Not a month goes by and the whole town’s in a tizzy over a string of robberies in the Forest, though I keep my head, thinking if it’s the rich being robbed I see no reason to complain.”

“You were just as scared as the rest of them,” Jo exclaimed.

“Oh, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ellen protested. Castiel hid a smile. “Well, guess who shows up here again? Dean—only this time in much better health and with a bag of gold coins no less. That’s when I learned the Hood, as he’s now apparently called, wasn’t some fearsome outlaw, just this kind lad who never forgets a good deed.” She smiled at Dean and touched his arm.

“Speaking of gold,” Dean said and held up the cloak. “This is full of it.”

“Well, marry, where’d you get that? Or do I want to know?” She took the cloak and studied the pockets lining the inside. “This’ll help many a family in town. The Tanners just had another baby and I know their harvest wasn’t so plentiful this year. And Rosamund is still sick—there’s plenty who need it. Thank you, Dean, all of you. It’s good work you do.” She pointed at Castiel. “You were a smart boy to join the Hood, it’s a noble cause.”

* * *

The sun was dipping behind the hills, making their shadows stretch along the dirt road behind them, when Dean, Benny, and Castiel left Laxton and headed back to Sherwood Forest with their packs full of new supplies. 

“So," Dean said to Castiel. "You’ve been staying with us for a few days and you've helped us rob someone. I’d say you’re part of our band now. If you want to be, of course,” he added quickly. “You and Gabriel _are_ going to stay, right?”

Dean wanted him to stay, to be part of the band? Castiel looked at him and smiled. “Yes, I think we will.”

“Great!" Dean grinned. "We’ll have our induction ceremony—”

“Hold on,” Benny interrupted, swinging his newly acquired sword in his hand. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. To be inducted into the band, you have to do more than watch others rob someone.”

“Cas helped,” Dean started.

“No, he’s right,” Castiel interjected, not wanting to be the cause of an argument. And who knew if the others in the band would feel the same way as Benny; he didn’t want to join in where he wasn’t wanted. Dean frowned as he looked at him, but Castiel continued, “I really didn’t do much. Besides, Gabriel hasn’t robbed anyone yet. We have to both be inducted.”

Benny gave Dean an _I-told-you-so_ look. “I suppose so,” Dean said slowly. “We’ll wait for Gabriel then.” 

Benny smirked and walked ahead. Dean grabbed Castiel’s arm to pull him back. “Don’t listen to him, alright? You were part of that robbery, you’re a part of our band.”

“Alright.” He looked down at Dean’s hand and Dean let go of his arm. They kept walking and Castiel felt a small flush of pride that Dean wanted him to stay. He resolved to be more of a help during the next robbery and around camp, show Benny and the others that he wanted to be here, that he deserved to be here. Because he did want to stay.

* * *

_Castiel stands on his tiptoes and grips the edge of the cart to stare at the colorful, misshapen fruits and vegetables. People pass by in the market square around him and his mother calls for him to follow her. Distracted, Castiel reaches out and grabs a yellow vegetable._

_“What do you think you’re doing?” Someone exclaims and he looks up to see a woman standing behind the cart, glaring at him._

_“Castiel!” his mother calls, coming over._

_A look of disgust passes over the woman’s face when she sees Castiel’s mother. “Get your son away from here,” she spits._

_“I’m sorry. Castiel, put that down.” She slaps his wrist and, startled, he begins to cry. Grabbing his hand, his mother looks at the woman. “I’ll pay for it.”_

_“I don’t want your business.”_

_Castiel, trying to pull away from his mother, looks up at her. The expression on her face as a fierce, angry look passes through her eyes startles him enough to stop his crying. He tries vainly to pull his hand away from hers, feels the tremble in her grip._

_Without a word, his mother turns and walks away, dragging Castiel after her._

_“You’re hurting me,” Castiel says and his mother releases his arm._

_She stares down at him and for a moment he becomes fearful she doesn’t recognize him, the look in her eyes is so distant. “You’re nothing but a nuisance,” she says, or at least he thinks that’s what she says, but maybe it’s only written in her eyes. Then she’s walking away and he must chase after her._


	8. The Squire Turned Outlaw

“You know, Charlie’s kind of cute.”

Castiel looked over at Gabriel. “Please don’t start with that.”

Gabriel grinned and threw a handful of grass at him. They were sorting through the money Charlie and Anna had brought in from a day of enforcing tolls on the road through the Forest. A hole in the oak tree served as the storage place for the bags of money they'd collected.

“Hey, Cas.”

Castiel looked up from brushing grass off his lap to see Dean walking over, holding two buckets. “You wanna help me draw water from the river?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, sure.” Castiel stood, brushing grass onto Gabriel, and avoided Gabriel trying to kick him. 

“Have fun,” Gabriel called after them and Castiel shot him a deathly glare.

“Here.” Dean handed Castiel one of the buckets. “Looks like Charlie and Anna did pretty well yesterday. We’ll have to head into town again to distribute everything.”

The mention of going into town reminded Castiel of their conversation with Ellen the day prior, and a question he hadn't wanted to ask around Benny. “What happened that you and Benny showed up at Ellen’s like you did?”

Dean swung his bucket back and forth a few times before answering, “That was after my father died. I didn’t have anywhere to go so I lived on the road. I met Benny and we started traveling together.” 

“Oh.” It irked Castiel a little. He didn’t know how Dean could stand being around Benny. “I do remember you saying in Nottingham that you didn't have family to speak of.” 

Dean looked at him and for a moment Castiel thought he was upset, but then he only looked thoughtful. “That was a bit of an exaggeration," he said. They stepped out of the trees to the river bank. "I have a younger brother. Samuel.”

“Oh. Does he still live in Locksley?” 

“You really remember everything I say, don’t you?” Dean asked.

“Sorry,” Castiel started.

“No, I didn’t mean it that way, I’m sorry.” Dean looked embarrassed and he bent down to grab a stone. “Yes, he does live there.”

“That must be nice, to have a brother,” Castiel said, trying to say something right. Maybe this is why Dean got along with Benny; Benny didn't bring up sore subjects or say the wrong thing all the time.

“You don’t have any siblings?” Dean asked.

“Just cousins.” 

Dean threw the stone into the water. It skimmed the surface, skipping twice. “Are you close to them?”

“Well, I lived with them for a time.” He could see the question on Dean’s face and said simply, “We weren’t the best of friends. One of them, Zachariah, is a squire at Nottingham Castle. He hated that I lived there too.”

Dean picked up another stone and tossed it in his hand. “Too bad.” He threw it at the water and it landed with a _plosh_.

Setting down his bucket, Castiel searched the ground for a flat stone and, finding one, threw it over the river. It skipped over the water three times.

“Hmm,” Dean said. He tossed another stone and it plopped into the water with a splash. “Shit.”

“You have to pick the right kind of stone,” Castiel said. He found another thin, flat stone and handed it to Dean. Dean’s fingers brushed his palm and Castiel remembered Gabriel’s teasing, which had only increased since arriving in Sherwood Forest. He pushed the thoughts away. Maybe that night in Nottingham had been a fluke, maybe it wouldn’t happen again.

Dean looked at the stone, then threw it into the water with a flick of his wrist. It skipped into a glint of sunlight, then disappeared into the water.

“Five times!” Dean exclaimed.

“I’m pretty sure that was only four.” 

“Well, regardless, I got you beat.” Dean picked up his bucket and dipped it into the river. “Listen, Cas.” He pulled the bucket up full of water and droplets dripped to the ground. “Would you mind not telling anyone about my brother? The others don’t know—well, only Benny does.”

“Oh.” Of course Benny would know. “I won’t tell.”

Dean smiled. “Thanks.”

Filling up his bucket, Castiel wondered why Dean kept his brother a secret. He wouldn’t ask, though. What if Dean took offense? What if he thought Castiel was prying? Besides, Castiel knew some things just couldn’t be spoken of, some things just had to remain secret. 

When they returned to the glade, the rest of the band was gathered at the oak tree. “Dean! Guess what!” Charlie exclaimed as they walked over. “There’s a rich woman passing through the Forest tomorrow. She reached Hucknail today.”

Anna spoke up, “Nobody knows who she is, but by her clothes and carriage she must be nobility. She’s alone with a couple knights, but it’s not a big convoy.”

“We can take them,” Benny said.

Dean grinned and set his bucket on the ground. “Allan and Will, scout out her caravan tomorrow morning," he instructed. "We’ll stop it a couple miles into the Forest, where we robbed the Baron of Awsworth.” Everyone nodded and Dean looked at Castiel. “Looks like you’ll be getting that excitement you wanted.”

“Wait,” Benny said. “He’s coming with us?” Castiel looked at Dean, wondering the same thing.

“Yeah, of course," Dean said. "Gabriel too, if he wants.” Gabriel nodded. 

“But they just got here, they don’t know how we do things,” Benny protested.

“Then there’s no better time to learn,” Dean said brightly. He looked at Castiel and Gabriel. “Our only rule is don’t kill anyone, so far as you are able. I trust you can both follow that.”

Castiel nodded. Benny scowled, but didn’t say anything else. 

Little John gave Castiel and Gabriel cudgels to use during the robbery and, during supper, Dean and the others decided on a plan. Castiel and Gabriel had simple enough roles in the robbery, but Castiel couldn’t help feeling apprehensive about the whole thing.

“Are you sure you want me to come tomorrow?” he asked Dean as everyone began retiring to their tents.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I? Hey, Little John!” Little John looked back at them. “Make sure we bring enough packs tomorrow.” Little John nodded and Dean turned back to Castiel. “Don’t worry, Cas. I mean, you and Gabriel trained as squires. We’re lucky to have you two coming with us.”

“If you say so.” Luck wasn’t something he’d ever associated with himself.

Dean smiled and clapped Castiel on the shoulder before going to his tent. Castiel sighed and went to his and Gabriel’s.

“Stop hogging up all the blankets,” Gabriel said, yanking them to his side.

“Now I hardly have any,” Castiel retorted, trying to pull them back. Giving up, he huffed and settled down. “I don’t know why Dean wants us to help tomorrow.” 

“Why wouldn’t he?" Gabriel asked. "I mean, you and him are together now, or whatever.”

“Not really,” Castiel started. 

Gabriel sat up and looked down at him. “What do you mean? What the fuck have you two been doing all this time?”

“I don’t know," Castiel started, sitting up. "I mean, you and I only arrived here a few days ago—”

“You came here because you like Dean.” Castiel tried to protest. “No, I know you think you had other reasons, but be honest. It’s all because of Dean.” 

“Fine." Castiel crossed his arms. "It was _mostly_ because of Dean.”

“Does he know that?”

Castiel was silent and Gabriel gave him a look. “I don’t even know if he likes me!” Castiel protested.

“Get your head out of your ass, Castiel. He clearly does.”

“You don’t know for sure. He’s just happy to have two more members in his band.” Gabriel shook his head and lied back down. “Do you really think he likes me?”

“You’re impossible, Cas.”

Rolling his eyes, Castiel lay back down and turned onto his side. Sure, Dean was friendly to him, but he was friendly towards everyone. And what had happened in Nottingham had happened a long time ago now. But Dean had also said he wanted to know Castiel better. It was too much to untangle. And if Gabriel was wrong, if he made a fool of himself… No, it was a risk he couldn’t take.

But if Gabriel was right… He wanted so badly for it to be true.

* * *

The dew on the grass hadn't yet evaporated and birdsong rang bright and clear when they left the glade the next morning. Reaching the main road, Will and Allan went in one direction to watch for the caravan’s arrival, and Dean led the way in the other.

After nearly an hour of walking down the road, the plan for the robbery running over and over in Castiel's mind, they stopped at a slight bend. “We’ll hide here, I think,” Dean said, looking around. “We’ll have a good vantage point from the woods.”

They split into two groups; Castiel followed Dean, Gabriel, and Benny to one side of the road, deep enough into the woods to keep watch but not be seen by travelers passing by. 

Dean stretched out onto the grass. “And so we wait."

Castiel sat down on the ground next to Gabriel. “What’s that for?” he asked, nodding at the worn, ripped cloak Dean had pulled from a pack.

“You’ll see,” Dean said and winked, making Castiel flush. 

The day grew warmer and only a few travelers passed by. Then Benny said, “There’s Will and Allan.” Castiel sat up straighter to see Allan running over to them.

“The carriage is on its way,” Allan panted, dropping down to the grass. “Six knights, one driver.”

“We’ve got them outnumbered,” Benny said, standing. There was an eager glint in his eye and he walked closer to the road.

Dean sat up. “You alright, Allan?” he asked.

Allan nodded quickly. “Yes, but, um…" He twisted the cuff of his sleeve. "Six knights is a lot, isn’t it? And they’re on the lookout, they'll be ready for us.”

Dean patted him on the shoulder. “Follow the plan and you’ll be fine.” Allan nodded.

Waiting, they fell into silence and Castiel rolled his cudgel back and forth on the ground. He supposed he should be thankful he wasn't the only one nervous, though he hoped he was hiding his nerves better than Allan, who kept glancing at the road at any sound of movement. Castiel startled himself when Benny suddenly called, “I think I hear something.”

Dean scrambled to his feet and joined Benny. Castiel caught the sound of horses’ hooves and carriage wheels along the dirt road. 

“Come on,” Dean said, motioning to them and Castiel stood. In only a few days, he had gone from squire in the Sheriff's service to outlaw. He couldn’t believe he was truly doing this.

Crouching behind the brush and bushes next to the others, he saw the procession approach. One knight rode out front of the carriage, two more rode on either side, and one took up the rear. The knights were silent, eyeing the woods as they rode.

When the lead knight had nearly reached their hiding place, Dean whispered, “Wait for my call.” Pulling on the worn cloak and lifting the hood over his face, he stood and stepped out into the road. 

“Morning to you all,” he said, blocking the procession’s way.

The lead knight pulled his horse to a stop. “Hey, now, what’s this? Get out of the way, you filthy beggar.”

“Why, I only wanted to greet you all and,” Dean took hold of the bridle of the lead knight's horse, “ask if you perhaps had a pence to spare?”

Castiel saw Benny shake his head, hiding a smile of amusement. “What the hell is he doing?” Gabriel whispered.

“Better to disarm them than surprise them with an attack while they’re on guard,” Benny whispered back.

“I don’t have time for this nonsense!” the lead knight exclaimed. One of the knights laughed and another leaned towards the carriage window, explaining to the passenger inside why they had stopped. “You’re hindering our way, now get lost!”

He swung his fist at Dean and Dean ducked the blow easily. Letting go of the horse’s bridle, he took a step towards the carriage. “If you won't take pity, perhaps the fine lady inside will?”

The two knights closest blocked Dean’s path. “How dare you speak of her, you knave,” the lead knight bellowed, growing red. “Now leave, before I crack your crown open.”

Dean lifted his hands. “Alright, alright, I see you are not the generous type. Just one thing.” His hand slipped under his cloak. “Allow me to herald your arrival to Sherwood Forest.” Before the knights could move, he brought out a bugle and blew one long blast.

Allan and Benny leapt to their feet and ran to the road. Gabriel and Castiel rose but hung back, their job to chase after anyone who should try to flee.

“You?” the lead knight spluttered. “You’re the Hood?”

“Yes,” Dean said, hanging his bugle back on his belt. “And I’d be wary of any hasty action, there’s more of us than there are of you.” The knights’ heads swiveled, searching the woods around them. “Now,” Dean said. “Since you are traveling through our territory, we must enact a toll.” He stepped to the door of the carriage and one knight made as if to stop him. 

“Careful,” Castiel heard Charlie call. She and Anna were standing on the other side of the road with their bows drawn. The knight settled back into his saddle resignedly. 

Dean opened the carriage door and Castiel could see a woman huddled inside against the opposite wall, her face covered with a veil.

“Don’t worry,” Dean said. “We won’t hurt you. We’re only asking you to hand over your money.”

Slowly, the woman held out a small purse and Dean reached for it. Then he jerked back, grabbing his arm, and Castiel realized the woman had been concealing a dagger. 

Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, two of the knights swung off their horses. Will rushed forward and swung his cudgel, hitting one atop the head and knocking him to the ground. 

“Come on!” Gabriel called, rushing into the fray. Castiel followed more hesitantly, seeing arrows fly. As he stepped into the road, a knight stumbled in front of him, an arrow suddenly protruding from his leg. He eyed Castiel and Castiel lifted his cudgel. 

“Please don’t move,” he said and the knight lifted his hands, grimacing in pain. “Get on the ground."

The knight began to sink down, then drew and swung his sword. Castiel stumbled back and felt a sharp sting as the blade sliced through his clothing. Before the knight could swing again, Castiel hit him across the chest with his cudgel and the knight fell backwards with a gasp of pain. 

“Don’t move,” Castiel said, standing over him. The knight clutched at his leg, blood now seeping heavily from the arrow wound. He seethed, but remained still as Castiel grabbed his sword and threw it a few feet away into the grass.

Dean was notching another arrow, but it didn’t seem he would need to shoot again. David and Will were standing over two knights, and Anna and Charlie were guarding a knight apiece, bows drawn. Gabriel had knocked the driver to the ground as he tried to flee on foot. Allan stood by the horses, holding his cudgel at the ready.

The sixth knight stood, sword drawn, and watched Dean cautiously. 

“Put the sword down, if you please,” Dean said and the knight slowly dropped it to the dirt. 

Dean lowered his bow. “Well, now that that’s taken care of.” He started laughing. “That was quite a show of strength. You can hand over the dagger now, Lady Marian, though I commend you for your action. It is Lady Marian, isn’t it?” 

Castiel frowned. Dean knew this woman? He looked at Little John holding onto the bridles of the horses leading the carriage. Little John grinned and shook his head, watching Dean.

“You stealing, conniving arse,” the woman in the carriage protested. She threw back her veil to reveal long brown hair and fierce eyes. “I had an idea you would show up today.”

“It seems you’re tempting fate traveling through the Forest where you’ve been robbed twice before.” Dean held out his hand and she handed over the dagger hilt first. “Now, your purse.”

“You simply have no right,” Lady Marian said. But she threw her purse onto the ground.

“Now, Lady Marian,” Dean said, picking it up. “Let’s be friendly.”

“You can shove friendly up your ass.” 

Charlie started laughing and turned aside. 

“Gather the knights together,” Dean said to Little John. “And then let’s open this luggage. I have a feeling this small purse doesn’t hold all that Lady Marian can offer.”

He held out his hand to help Lady Marian climb down from the carriage, but, lifting her head in disdain, she ignored it and stepped out on her own. Little John pointed her to the side of the road where the other knights had been led, then grabbed the knight Castiel had knocked down and dragged him to the others.

Smiling, Dean caught Castiel’s eye. “Help me open these trunks, will you?” He cut the ropes lashing the luggage to the rack on the back of the carriage. “That knight didn’t injure you, did he?” he said as Castiel joined him. 

Castiel looked down at his tunic where a rip in his tunic revealed a thin line of blood on his stomach. “No, just barely cut me, thankfully.” His heart was still pounding as he dug into the luggage. He found food inside one bag and handed it to David, then tried to pry open the lid of a trunk. It wouldn’t budge.

“These trunks are locked,” he told Dean.

“Lady Marian?” Dean called. “Would you mind giving us the key to your luggage?”

“Why? So you can root through my undergarments?”

“Precisely,” Dean said with a grin. 

Slipping a dainty chain from around her neck, she held it out. “One day, you’re going to let me see your face, aren’t you?” she said to Dean as David took the key from her. 

“So you can turn me in to the Sheriff?” Dean asked. “Not a chance.”

David tossed the chain to Castiel and Castiel used the key hanging off of it to unlock the trunks. Inside were jewelry, fine clothes, and even two bags of gold coins. They collected most of it in their packs, leaving only the clothes behind. Dean emptied half of the contents of Lady Marian’s purse into his pack, then tossed the purse into the carriage. “We’ll leave you your finery and enough money to see you to wherever you’re headed," he told Lady Marian.

“How very generous,” Lady Marian said dryly. 

Dean shrugged. “Bring the driver here,” he told Gabriel.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” the driver begged as Gabriel led him to Dean.

“We’ll take nothing from you,” Dean said, motioning for Gabriel to let go of the driver. “I want you to drive this carriage up the road with Lady Marian and don’t stop driving. These knights will catch up with you when we let them go.” The driver nodded and climbed into his seat.

“You can be sure that I’ll be present at your hanging,” Lady Marian said, sweeping past Dean to climb into the carriage. “I’m sure it won’t be very long before you pay for your crimes.”

“Then I can’t wait, m’lady,” Dean said with a mock bow, and shut the door.

Lady Marian looked out the window with a sly smile, then drew the curtain. With a nod from Dean, the driver snapped the horses’ reins and the horses started off at a quick trot. Will and Anna released the knights’ horses and they ran after the carriage.

When the carriage was out of sight and the sound of horses’ hooves was past, Dean nodded at Benny. Benny nudged one knight with his cudgel. “Get to your feet.” The knight rose slowly and Benny shoved him, hastening his pace. “Go on, catch up with your Lady.”

With glares and oaths, the knights started down the road, one hobbling from the wound in his leg. Charlie and Anna kept their bows aloft until the knights had traveled some way, then Dean pushed back his hood.

“I’d say that was a success,” he said, grinning. “Let’s leave before those knights decide to do something foolish.”

Grabbing a pack, Castiel followed the others into the woods. 

“Wasn’t that great?” Gabriel asked him. “The look on those knights’ faces was priceless.” 

Castiel nodded, actually in agreement. His heart was still pounding, but from exhilaration now, not nerves. He couldn't believe he'd actually helped rob a royal carriage.

“I like that Lady Marian,” Charlie said. She nudged Dean. “She surprised you, didn’t she, Dean? Pulling out that dagger?”

Dean looked down at his arm and Castiel noticed a thin line of blood across his forearm. “That she did,” he said ruefully. “No matter, a small price to pay.” 

“Who is Lady Marian?” Castiel asked, unable to keep from asking any longer. “Why did you know her?”

“She’s a frequent traveler through the Forest,” Anna spoke up. “She must not be very smart because we rob her every time.”

Little John grinned at Dean. “I think she might have a fancy for the Hood.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Whatever the cause, she keeps us well supplied.” He slowed his pace to walk next to Castiel. “That wasn’t so bad, right? They’re gonna start hanging up wanted posters for you soon enough.”

“I very much doubt that,” Castiel said, though he smiled a little. He wondered how much of Dean’s chivalry and flirting with Lady Marian had been real.

“Well, anyway, you and Gabriel can be inducted into our band now. You’re officially outlaws.”

* * *

The shadows were long when they returned to the glade. David started a fire and rooted through the food they had stolen. Castiel deposited his pack at the bottom of the oak tree with the rest. He didn’t know what was in the pack, but it had been heavy and he was glad to get it off his shoulder. 

Charlie was speaking to Dean about something he couldn’t hear, then Little John joined their conversation and started laughing. Leaving them, Charlie walked over to Castiel and Gabriel. “Can you guys help me collect water from the river?” she asked. 

“Sure,” Castiel said. They grabbed buckets and headed through the trees.

“Why does Dean keep talking about an induction?” Gabriel asked. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, it’s just a celebration to welcome new members to our band,” Charlie said. “Have to do something to keep ourselves amused.”

Castiel didn’t recognize the route they were taking to the river. The trees fell away to reveal the ground rising up a little, then dropping sharply a few feet to the water below.

“You wanna go over there?” he asked, pointing to the left where the bank sloped to a shallower area and they could actually reach the water. 

Charlie was standing at the edge of the bank, peering into the river. “Do you guys see that?”

“See what?” Gabriel asked. He stepped to the edge and Castiel leaned forward to see.

“That, there.”

Castiel frowned, not seeing anything, then he felt a shove and suddenly he was in the river. He came up quickly, spitting water.

“What the hell was that for?” Gabriel yelled, splashing in the water beside him.

Charlie was doubled over on the bank laughing. A deeper laugh rumbled behind her and Little John stepped out from the woods. “You should’ve seen your faces,” he laughed.

“Pull me up,” Gabriel called to Charlie and when Charlie reached down to give him her hand, he yanked her into the water. 

“You bastard!” she yelled, coming up out of the water and splashing him.

“Charlie, you’re not the one being initiated,” Castiel heard Dean say, laughing.

Looking up, Castiel saw Dean, Benny, David, and Anna now watching from the bank. “ _This_ is the induction?” he asked.

“Oh we’re just getting started,” David called, holding up an ale skin.

Dean kicked off his boots. “Alright, everyone in.” He shoved Benny off the edge and Benny grabbed Dean’s arm and pulled him in after him.

Castiel shut his eyes against the spray of water. Everyone else jumped in and Anna clambered onto Charlie’s back, ducking her under the water.

David drank from the ale skin and handed it to Gabriel. “Drink up!” Gabriel did so, then passed the bag to Castiel. 

Tipping the bag back, Castiel gulped the ale down. He coughed, grimacing.

“Hearty stuff, ain’t it?” Little John laughed. He slapped Castiel on the back, almost toppling him over. 

When everyone was thoroughly soaked and tipsy—or at least Castiel was—they traipsed back to the glade where Will and Allan were minding the fire. 

“What took you guys so long?” Will asked.

“Got a bit distracted,” Dean said, wringing water out of his tunic. Castiel's stomach twisted at the way it clung to his skin, and he looked away quickly when Dean glanced at him. "And now, the official induction," Dean announced.

Leading the way to the oak tree, Dean stepped up on one of the exposed roots. “Gather ‘round, everyone. Today, we welcome two new members to our band.” Little John handed him a sword and Dean pointed with it in front of him. “Castiel, Gabriel, come forth and kneel."

Castiel knelt in front of the tree next to Gabriel, feeling uncomfortable with everyone's eyes on him. "Guess we got our inductions after all, huh?" Gabriel said, nudging his shoulder.

"I don't have the power to make you knights," Dean said, overhearing, "but I can confirm that you two are now outlaws." He tapped the blade of the sword on one of Gabriel’s shoulders, then the other. “Gabriel, you are now a member of our outlaw band.”

He turned to Castiel. The way the firelight lit his face made him look almost royal. “Castiel,” he said, tapping one of Castiel’s shoulders, then the other, with the sword. “I proclaim you a member of our outlaw band.” Gabriel grinned at Castiel and Castiel had to smile.

Stabbing the sword into the ground, Dean motioned for them to rise. He took his bugle from Anna. “Everyone welcome our newest outlaws!” He blew his bugle so that the sound rang out through the trees and everyone cheered. Dean jumped down from the roots. “And now we feast!”

Food and ale a plenty was passed around their merry circle and the roaring fire illuminated the glade nearly to the ring of trees around. Dean raised a goblet they had taken from their robbery. “Our greatest gratitude to the fair Lady Marian for her generosity,” he toasted.

“Hear, hear!” everyone yelled, raising their cups, and even Castiel had to join in. 

Charlie, Anna, and Allan had an archery contest—they refused to let Dean compete—and Anna won. She was awarded a prize of money from Lady Marian’s toll. Stars appeared overhead, a few at first, and then the whole sky was covered in their clusters. Castiel’s head felt light. His clothes had since dried next to the warmth of the fire, and the ale being passed around warmed his stomach. 

Little John and David launched into a lusty ballad, the tune of which seemed to keep changing. Allan accompanied them on his harp, or at least tried to. Even Benny was laughing. Castiel noticed Charlie grab Anna’s hand and pull her down to kiss her.

“Guess she isn’t an option,” Gabriel muttered aside to him and Castiel smiled. He looked over at Dean and realized that if he and Dean were together, they wouldn’t have to hide it like they would’ve in Nottingham. Not that that would ever happen, he told himself quickly.

The night grew later, but Little John piled more wood on the fire and the flames rose ever higher. Their wavering, flickering forms made Castiel almost dizzy, or perhaps that was an effect of the ale, he thought, looking down at his empty mug. Dean walked over and sat down close to him, and Castiel thought he’d never seen anyone so lovely.

"Happy to be officially part of the band?" Dean asked.

"Yes," Castiel said, nodding. Dean filled up his own mug with ale and, watching him, Castiel felt something building in his chest. “You’re very beautiful,” he said, without thinking. Dean laughed and looked over at him. “I’m sorry,” Castiel said, turning red. He looked away, checking to see if anyone had overheard. “Sorry, I'm sorry, that was such a strange thing to say.”

"It's alright," Dean started and Castiel turned back to him suddenly.

“Can I tell you something?” he interrupted, lowering his voice. He didn't know what he was going to say, but the words were threatening to spill out all the same.

“What is it?” Dean leaned closer to hear. 

“I came here because of you.” Castiel’s heart beat faster at finally saying the truth aloud, and he continued, quickly, “I couldn’t stop thinking of you and I wanted to see you again and…” Dean was watching him intently, and just as a sudden desire to tell the truth had gripped him, now panic tightened his chest, cutting off his words. _This is all wrong_ , he realized. Dean didn’t feel the same way, how could he, how could Castiel be so foolish to think—”I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, Cas,” Dean started.

“No, no, I don’t know what I’m saying, I’m sorry.” His heart pounding in his ears, Castiel pushed himself to his feet and walked away quickly before Dean could respond, confirm what he already knew.

Spotting Gabriel talking to David, he sat down heavily next to them. Gabriel looked at him, mid-laugh at something David had said, and switched to a frown. “You alright, Cas?”

Castiel nodded mutely. Gabriel laughed. “You’re completely soused, aren’t you?” He went back to talking to David, and Castiel watched Dean sitting across the fire, staring at his hands. Then Dean rose and joined Will and Little John, started talking and laughing, and Castiel looked away. The fire crackled, and the forest seemed to soak up the music from Allan’s harp, and the night was warm, and, all of a sudden, Castiel was awake.

He blinked, opened his eyes to bright sunlight, and then shut them again. He didn’t remember falling asleep the night before, but here he was, lying on the ground outside under the morning sun. 

Opening his eyes again, he sat up slowly, the weight of his head trying to pull him back down and black threatening the edges of his vision. Gabriel and David were asleep on the ground next to him, as was everyone else, scattered around the cold coals of the fire, passed out after how long a night of celebration, Castiel couldn’t remember. 

Castiel spotted Dean lying asleep on his stomach with one arm tucked under his head. For a moment he only stared at him, then he remembered what had happened the night prior and his heart began to race. What had he said? He had told Dean the truth. Why was he so foolish?

Dean stirred and Castiel’s heart jumped. He thought briefly of running away, pretending to be asleep. _Stop being an idiot_ , he told himself. _Just apologize, tell Dean you shouldn’t have said anything._

Dean blinked a few times, then groaned and rolled over onto his side, shielding his eyes with his arm. After a few seconds, he pushed himself to a sitting position and rubbed at his eyes in a manner Castiel found incredibly endearing. Looking away, Castiel studied the grass. 

“What a night,” Dean mumbled. He was silent, then, and Castiel twined grass around his fingers, wondering if Dean was remembering what he'd said last night. Then he heard Dean stand and walk over. Squinting in the sunlight, Castiel looked up. Dean was holding out his hand. 

“What?” Castiel asked.

Dean motioned with his head. “Let’s go to the river. I’m dying of thirst.”

Castiel looked back down. He'd have to talk to Dean eventually, he supposed, why not now? He stood without grabbing Dean’s hand and thought he saw a flash of confusion pass over Dean’s face before he turned away.

They walked to the river and Dean cupped water into his hands and drank, splashed water on his face. Sitting, he dipped his bare feet into the water all at once. “Fuck, that’s cold.” He looked up at Castiel and seemed about to say something, then looked away, back at the river.

Castiel crossed his arms and toed the grass with his boot. He'd found it easy enough to speak last night, but now he couldn't even form a thought, much less speak. Sitting next to Dean and pulling off his boots, he dipped his feet into the water slowly, one at a time, and shivered. 

They sat there silently and Castiel nudged a stone with his foot, pushed it over.

“Cas,” Dean started, and Castiel froze. “I don’t know if you remember, but you said something last night—”

In a rush, Castiel interrupted, “I’m sorry, Dean, I shouldn’t have said anything, I was drunk—”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“No, I shouldn’t have said what I did. We’re good friends and I don’t want to ruin that.”

Dean was silent, staring at the water. "If that’s how you truly feel," he finally said. 

“It is.” The words seemed to drop like a heavy stone into the water and Castiel felt hollow having said it. Clear water rushed around his ankles and he caught sight of a small minnow flash past. 

Dean shifted. “We’ll forget about it then, alright?” 

In his peripheral, Castiel saw Dean look at him, but he kept staring at the water. He nodded. “Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry y'all, they were so close this time but Castiel is a nervous wreck around Dean, he can't help it :) leave a comment and let me know what you thought!


	9. The Truth

“We’re going into town today to distribute what we took from Lady Marian,” Charlie told Castiel as he sat down next to her at the campfire for breakfast.

Castiel nodded, glancing around. Dean was standing near the tents, talking to Little John, and Castiel looked away quickly. He and Dean hadn’t spoken since their conversation at the river the day prior. It was mostly his fault. He couldn’t look at Dean without a rush of embarrassment for having so completely messed everything up between them. 

“She was sure traveling with a lot of money, despite knowing we’d stop her,” Charlie continued but Castiel was only half-listening. He stared down at the porridge in his bowl without an appetite.

Dean walked over to their group by the fire. “Little John and I will head into Shirebrook. Charlie, you want to take a group into Farnsfield?”

She nodded and Dean looked at Castiel. Before he could speak, Castiel said, “I’ll go with Charlie.” He stared back down at his bowl to avoid Dean’s eyes.

Gabriel, Anna, and David joined Charlie and Castiel, and they left the glade as the day grew humid. Thick clouds covered the sky, and they trudged through the heavy forest until they reached the road. 

David and Gabriel were arguing about the best ways to knock someone down with a cudgel—Gabriel insisting he knew best from his training as a squire and David stopping to demonstrate his argument, successfully proving his point by knocking Gabriel over. Castiel kicked a stone, watched it tumble off the road into the grass.

“So, you liking Sherwood Forest so far?” Anna asked, startling him from his thoughts.

“Um, yes, I am,” he replied, looking up.

“It took me a few weeks to get adjusted, especially to sleeping in a tent.” She made a face.

“Anna thinks she’s royalty,” Charlie spoke up and Anna retorted, 

“Sorry I wasn’t used to sleeping in barns and on the side of the road like you were.” Charlie reached over to yank on Anna's braid, and Anna pushed her away, laughing.

“Why were you sleeping in barns?” Castiel asked Charlie.

“I was a bit of a traveler,” Charlie started.

“More like vagabond,” Anna interrupted with a smile. 

“Don’t forget petty thief,” Charlie said. “Got called that plenty.”

“Is that why you joined the band?” Castiel asked. “To steal?”

Anna laughed and Charlie rolled her eyes. “No. I stole from the band, not knowing who they were, obviously. I saw Anna and Will giving money to a farmer and thought, well, if they have enough to spare... But they caught me in the act and ended up convincing me to come to the glade.”

“And then she never left,” Anna said, feigning annoyance. 

Charlie grinned and slung her arm over Anna’s shoulders. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.” She and Anna smiled at each other and Castiel felt a hollowness in the pit of his stomach.

“Well, anyway,” Anna said, looking back at him, “we’re all glad to have you and Gabriel here.”

“Thanks." Castiel kicked another stone. "I’m not sure Benny would say the same, though.” He wondered if the same was now true of Dean.

“Don’t let Benny get in your head,” Anna said. “I bet he wasn’t shit when he first started this life.”

“He thinks he’s so special because he and Dean were the first of the band,” Charlie added.

“Why did they become outlaws?” Castiel asked, since he doubted he'd ever work up the courage to start a conversation with Dean.

“I don’t know. Dean never speaks of it and Benny just says one day they had enough of Prince John, the laws, the taxes, and that was it.” Charlie shrugged. “Everyone’s got their past, I don’t want to pry.”

Castiel nodded, though his curiosity had only grown. It seemed the more he learned of Dean, the more enigmatic Dean became. _It doesn’t matter,_ he told himself, annoyed with his own interest. He and Dean were simply friends because that's what Castiel wanted—well, maybe not, but it was what he knew _Dean_ wanted. Only friends. Nothing more.

* * *

Entering Farnsfield, Charlie knocked on the front door of a small cottage off the main road. A few moments later, a young woman opened it and broke into a smile.

“Charlie! Hi!," she exclaimed. "I’m so glad to see you. There were so many knights around here recently, I was worried they might find you and the merry men.”

Charlie wrinkled her nose at the band’s given name. “People do realize there are women in this band too, right?” Anna spoke up.

“Don't look at me," the woman said, "I'm not the one who coined the name." She leaned on the doorframe and lowered her voice. "I’m so glad you’re all safe. The one knight who stopped by here to interrogate us was a real asshole, starting asking us if we’d seen any fugitive squires from Nottingham. I don’t know what he was going on about.”

Charlie glanced back at Castiel and Gabriel. “That is strange.”

“Did he know where the squires might have gone?” Gabriel asked. 

The young woman looked at him and frowned. “No, but I think he suspects they joined the Hood. At least, he was warning us of the Hood’s ‘corruptive influence.’” She looked back and forth between Castiel and Gabriel. “I don’t think I’ve met you two before.”

“This is Castiel and Gabriel,” Charlie started. 

“They've been with us for a while now,” David cut in, "They came all way from Livingston to join us." He looked at Castiel and Gabriel and they nodded.

“Oh, well, pleased to meet you," the woman said and Castiel breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thanks for covering for us,” Castiel said to David as they walked down the street to the next house.

“No problem," he replied. "I trust the folks in this town, but you can never be too careful, you know?”

“Looks like we got ourselves a reputation,” Gabriel said, grinning at Castiel. “I wonder what Michael and Balthazar think of us joining the Hood. They’re probably jealous.”

“More likely, they think we’re crazy.” Castiel wondered, briefly, what his relatives thought. They were probably unsurprised. He could hear his aunt saying to the other women in town, “crazy breeds crazy." She and his uncle were most likely overjoyed to hear he had run away without a trace, Zachariah too. They probably wished he had done so earlier. And perhaps he should have; despite the uneasy strain between him and Dean, he'd still take the Forest over his relatives' house or Nottingham Castle any day. 

* * *

“I can’t believe it’s storming,” Gabriel said, pushing back the tent flap to look out at the trees rippling against the dark sky.

“Close that, rain’s getting inside,” Castiel complained, pulling a blanket up around himself to ward off the chill. It had begun raining as they left Farnsfield in the late afternoon, and, upon arriving in the glade, they’d run off to their respective tents for shelter.

With a huff, Gabriel shut the tent and flopped backwards on the ground. “I hate being trapped in here.”

“Sorry I’m such bad company.”

“What’s the matter with you?” Gabriel asked. Castiel steadied the candle in its holder, its flames flickering light up the tent walls. “You’ve been off all day.”

“Nothing’s the matter.”

“Something happen with Dean?”

Castiel sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“What did he do? Do I have to kick his ass?”

“Gabe, stop. He didn’t do anything.”

“Then what happened?”

Castiel stared Gabriel down. “I said, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine.” Gabriel reached up and touched the tent wall, causing water to drip inside. “Be moody, I don’t care.”

Castiel laid down and turned over. “Stop letting water drip inside.” Gabriel huffed and then extinguished the candle, plunging them in darkness. 

The wind gusted outside, pushing the tent walls in and then pulling them out. The trees creaked and swished and Castiel hated himself for the way he’d snapped at Gabriel. He didn’t know why Gabriel put up with him, why Gabriel had ever befriended him. Arriving at the castle for the first time, Castiel had been quiet, trying to learn quickly to avoid Sir Ishim’s wrath, trying to avoid the sneering looks from the other squires. Gabriel had been kind, though, had made his friends Michael and Balthazar talk to Castiel, even though Castiel knew they didn’t care for him. 

The crack of a tree bough startled him and he hoped they didn’t wake in the night to being crushed by a fallen branch. Dean’s tent was only a few yards away, and closer to the tree line, so he was even more at risk.

The thought of Dean made him feel sick to the stomach. Why hadn’t he just told Dean the truth?: that he’d meant what he’d said when he was drunk. Why couldn’t he believe someone like Dean could actually like him back?

Well, that was the answer in itself. _Someone like Dean._ If his friendship with Gabriel was so surprising, there was no way he could imagine Dean being interested in him, not in the way Castiel felt about him.

He could only hope that he and Dean could be friends, that he could stop acting like a fool every time he was near Dean.

* * *

Castiel dragged a fallen branch to the pile next to the oak tree. The storm had passed sometime during the night and he had woken to sporadic plop of raindrops on the tent roof and the uneasy silence after a rain before the animals and birds come out of hiding. 

Dropping the branch onto the pile, he saw Dean approaching and pretended to be occupied with scraping mud off his boots with a stick.

“The storm keep you up last night?” Dean asked, depositing an armful of small branches on the pile. He wiped wet leaves and mud off his sleeves.

“No,” Castiel said. His own thoughts had been enough to drown out the storm and keep him awake.

“I couldn’t fall asleep, kept hoping every crash of thunder wasn’t a branch hurtling towards my head.”

“You should move your tent.” Castiel straightened and, to avoid Dean’s eyes, looked around the glade for more fallen branches to collect. “I should grab those," he said, pointing in a vague direction. He walked away before Dean could speak. 

_So much for acting normal,_ he chided himself. Sighing, he bent down to grab a twisted tree branch. 

* * *

With cleaning up after the storm and laying out supplies and clothing to dry in the sunlight, Castiel successfully avoided Dean until supper. When David asked him to try and find any semi-dry timber to start a fire, Castiel was eager to comply, to leave the glade where Dean seemed to be everywhere he looked.

A stray raindrop splattered on his hand as he stepped around a disintegrating stump covered in a mass of dark, clumped leaves. A fallen branch that seemed dry crumbled when he grabbed it. He wiped his hand on his tunic.

“Hey, Cas!”

Castiel's stomach dropped at the familiar voice. He turned to see Dean following him and paused, forcing himself to wait for Dean to catch up, not run in the opposite direction like he was tempted to.

“Can I talk to you?” Dean asked, reaching his side. 

Castiel nodded, his heart beginning to pound. They continued walking and Castiel's insides twisted. He waited for Dean to say his and Gabriel’s arrival had been a mistake, to say he thought Castiel should leave—

“Are you mad at me?” Dean asked. Surprised, Castiel looked up at him. Dean didn’t look angry. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Castiel said slowly. He studied the still soft and damp ground. “I’m mad at myself," he admitted. 

“Why?”

Their footsteps left imprints in the mud. “Because I ruined everything.”

“What do you mean? You didn’t ruin anything.”

There was a genuine surprise in Dean’s voice that Castiel didn’t expect, couldn’t believe. He tried to explain, words coming out in a rush, “I told you how I feel, but I shouldn’t have assumed you’d feel the same way—” He stopped and reddened, realizing what he was saying.

“Cas.” Dean grabbed his wrist, pulling him to a stop. “I thought you didn’t mean what you said that night.” 

Castiel avoided Dean’s eyes. _Why do I always make everything worse?_ Quietly, he admitted, “I suppose I did mean it.”

“Then why did you apologize? Cas, I like you.”

Castiel frowned. There was no way he had heard that right. He looked at Dean to confirm it was all a jest, but Dean looked completely sincere.

"I was so happy when you showed up here, at the Forest," Dean continued. "But the way you acted…. I thought maybe you hadn’t come because of me after all, so I never said anything."

Castiel’s heart thumped in his chest as he looked in Dean’s eyes and realized Dean truly meant it. He felt amazed that Dean had felt the same uncertainty—Dean, the Hood, the one who seemed so sure and confident. “I’m an idiot,” he said, hanging his head, remembering the way he’d acted. “I thought for sure you didn’t care about me—”

“Cas, no. I’m the idiot, I should’ve said something.” 

“We’re both idiots,” Castiel said and Dean laughed. Castiel met Dean’s eyes. “When you asked me to come with you, in Nottingham, were you only trying to recruit me for the band?”

“No, Cas, that had nothing to do with the band. I just wanted to be with you.” 

Those words sent a thrill through Castiel and he didn't know how to respond, could only stare at Dean, trying to process the way everything between them had changed so quickly, to trust it was real. The fading sunlight brought out Dean’s freckles and Castiel felt himself sinking once again into Dean’s eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” Dean asked. 

“Yes,” Castiel answered too quickly.

Dean smiled, then put a hand to Castiel’s face and kissed him. It was both everything Castiel had remembered, and yet, so wonderfully different, months of longing now pressed into their kiss, and Castiel could hardly believe his luck, that such a thing could happen to him. 

Pulling away, Dean kept his hand to Castiel’s face and Castiel stared into his eyes. “You’re very beautiful,” Dean said with a smile and Castiel reddened at the echo of his own words. Dean moved his thumb to the corner of Castiel’s mouth, then kissed him again. 

* * *

“I thought you’d forgotten all about me,” Castiel said. He sat against the rough bark of the oak tree and looked at Dean lying in the grass with his arms under his head. All signs of the storm from the day prior had disappeared and the sky was as blue as ever.

Dean smiled. “No, I didn’t forget about you. I even thought about going back to Nottingham just to see you again.”

“Would you really have?” Castiel asked, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. 

Dean looked at him. “Yeah, why not?”

“What if I had forgotten about you? Or didn’t want to see you?”

Dean shrugged. “Then I would’ve said screw you and left.” He grinned. “But that’s not what would’ve happened, right?”

“No.” Castiel smiled a little. 

“Did you ever think of coming to the Forest to visit me?” Dean asked. “Or was the plan always to abscond and join the band?”

“There was no way I could’ve visited you.”

“I thought squires got time off once and a while?”

“Well, usually.” 

“And what, you were the exception?”

“Just unlucky,” Castiel said. Part of the arrangement his uncle had made with Sir Thaddeus. He looked up to see Benny approaching and, for once, was grateful to see him so Dean couldn’t ask any more questions.

“Hey, Dean,” Benny said. “Will has a question about who’s going into Rainsworth tomorrow.” Dean nodded and pushed himself to his feet. He went to where Will was talking to Little John near the tents.

Benny sat on one of the oak tree’s wide roots. “So, you and Dean are together now?” he asked, too casually.

It was more a statement than a question, but Castiel answered it anyway, “Yes, I suppose so.” How did Benny know? Castiel didn’t think he and Dean acted any differently, and he'd told only Gabriel. He realized Dean must have told Benny.

“Well, that’s great, I’m happy for both of you.” Benny stretched his legs out and dug his heels into the dirt. “You know, me and Dean were together for a bit.”

Castiel’s breath caught, but he refused to show his surprise, continued to stare at the grass in front of him. “It wasn’t too long ago,” Benny continued. “We traveled together, you know, before he became ‘the Hood.’ Dean must have told you about us already, though.”

Castiel nodded, still avoiding Benny’s eyes. 

“I should go see if David needs help with dinner.” Benny stood and clapped Castiel on the shoulder, making him flinch. “Like I said, happy for you guys.”

Castiel watched him walk away. Maybe Benny was lying, he told himself. But he’d seen how close Dean and Benny were. 

Dean returned and sat next to Castiel. “Benny wasn’t harassing you, was he?” he asked jokingly.

“Oh, no.” He smiled at Dean, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.

* * *

“Just because he and Dean were a thing before doesn’t mean anything now,” Gabriel said, closing their tent door. 

Castiel unfolded his blanket. “But they’re still such good friends.” 

“Yeah, friends. That’s it.”

“I guess you’re right.” What had he thought, that he was the first person Dean had ever taken a fancy towards? He was only jealous.

“Of course I’m right.” Gabriel swatted at a fly that had snuck into the tent. It buzzed and flew a corkscrew away into one of the tent’s dark corners. “So, you and Dean finally got your shit together. This is great. I mean, when’s the last time you slept with someone?" He answered himself without waiting for a reply, "That’s right, never.” 

“You don’t know that," Castiel protested.

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Well…” Castiel hedged, turning red. Gabriel grinned. “But that’s not what’s going to happen!”

“Not with that attitude, it’s not.” Gabriel grinned at him and Castiel rolled his eyes, laying down to sleep. He regretted telling Gabriel anything about his sad and unfortunate love life. Or lack thereof. He hadn't told him all, of course. Not about James, the boy he'd met in Newark where he lived with his aunt and uncle.

The memory twisted his stomach even now. James had befriended him when Castiel first arrived to live with his cousins. Didn’t spread rumors about Castiel and his mother, didn’t join in with the tormenting Castiel received from his cousins. Castiel might have even dared hope James might feel something similar to how he himself felt. They were certainly close, closer than Castiel had ever been with anyone else.

Then his cousins began to make snide comments about how often he spent time with James, and his uncle overheard. His reaction wasn't the worst part, however. The worst was when James began avoiding Castiel, and Castiel had understood. 

It made Castiel burn with shame even now, thinking of it. He hardly knew what to do now that he knew Dean liked him back. How could Dean ever understand? As an outlaw, without a town to gossip about him, here in Sherwood Forest, he was free. Castiel had never had that luxury. 

Zachariah made a comment, once, seeing Castiel and Gabriel talking together alone, and Castiel had been stunned quiet. Gabriel, though, had made a fierce retort and Zachariah never said anything again, though Castiel feared he was spreading rumors among the other squires. 

Gabriel, thankfully, had seemed unfazed by Zachariah’s not very subtle comment, and though he and Castiel never spoke of it again, there was a new understanding between them: Gabriel stopped trying to set Castiel up with girls he met in town and Castiel accepted his light teasing about other squires or new knights. He appreciated that about Gabriel, the way he acted so casual, so unfazed. Still, Castiel couldn't bring himself to tell Gabriel about James. It was only a sad and embarrassing story that he didn’t like to remember.

It didn’t seem quite so depressing now that he and Dean were together, though. Before, it had seemed an omen, a curse for how the rest of his life would play out. Now, it was only a sad misstep which Castiel could put behind him. Perhaps he wasn’t so unlucky after all.


	10. Omens

The sun’s rays shone through the trees, creating stripes of light and shadow along the ground, and the thick grass glimmered with dew when Castiel awoke and pushed aside the tent flap. He walked across the glade to where David was sitting by the small, growing fire.

“Morning,” David said. 

“Good morning,” Castiel replied, sitting down. 

The fire snapped and thin sparks rose lazily. A flock of birds flew overhead, their small shadows dappling the ground. The smell of food cooking drew Castiel's attention to the fire, where David was cooking biscuits. 

“I’m starving!” he heard Gabriel call and looked up to see him walking over. 

Gabriel threw himself down on the ground next to David, and David shoved his hand away before he could grab one of the biscuits. “They just came out of the fire,” he protested. 

“You know, it’s a good thing you can cook because you’re a real pest,” Gabriel said. He grinned as David threw one of the biscuits at him. 

Sounds of movement came from across the glade, and Castiel saw Dean emerge from his tent, running a hand through his hair so that it stood up in all directions. Castiel smiled, feeling a flutter in his stomach. 

He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them. The last few days seemed like a dream. Things like this, good things, didn’t happen to him. Every day when he awoke, he was half-certain that he would open his eyes to find himself in the Great Hall, that he would soon hear the clanging of the morning bell and Sir Thaddeus’s voice yelling at them to make haste. 

But he was really here. Dean walked over and Castiel smiled up at him.

“What are you so cheery about?” Dean asked, sitting next to him. 

“Nothing.”

“You must be a morning person, huh?” 

“Guess so.” The flutter in his stomach returned when Dean moved closer, nudging Castiel with his shoulder. Glancing up, Castiel saw Gabriel grinning. Castiel ducked his head; he couldn’t stop smiling.

“I’ll wash the dishes,” Dean said after they had eaten, standing to grab the dirty plates and bowls they had stacked.

“I’ll help,” Castiel said quickly. He thought he saw a few knowing glances and smiles among the others and reddened, but helped Dean place the dishware into a basket.

“Does everyone know about us?” he asked Dean as they entered the forest. The sun had risen higher in the sky so that now the leaves above them shimmered in the sunlight.

“Word spreads fast,” Dean said. He looked at Castiel, a flash of concern in his eyes. “Is that alright?”

“I don’t mind,” Castiel said, though he could've done without Benny knowing. “Anyway, Gabriel’s known everything from the beginning.”

They stepped out of the forest onto the river bank and Dean set the basket of dishes down. “By _everything_ , you mean... ?”

“I might have talked about you in Nottingham, after the night we met.” Castiel grabbed a plate.

“Then I might as well confess. Everyone in the band was under strict orders to not let on they knew about you. I may have talked about you a bit too.”

“Charlie did allude to that,” Castiel said.

“Then I guess my secret was already out.” Dean grinned at Castiel.

Rinsing off the plate he was holding, Castiel lost his grip and the plate cracked on the riverbed stones. “Fuck, I’m so sorry!” he said, picking up the shards. He avoided Dean’s eyes, felt his face flush. “I’m so clumsy.”

“It’s alright,” Dean said, taking them from him. “We have plenty of others.”

“I’m sorry, really." He met Dean’s eyes and, seeing the look in them, realized he was overreacting. "Sorry," he said again, embarrassed, and grabbed another plate to wash, careful to not lose hold of it. “My aunt would’ve laid into me if I broke something in her shop.” He wasn't sure why he felt the need to explain. 

“Your aunt owned a shop?” Dean asked.

Castiel nodded, focusing on the plate. “She inherited it from her and my mother's father. My aunt and uncle were quite wealthy, I worked for them while I lived with them. Well, I didn’t get paid, but it was work all the same.” 

He remembered his first night with his relatives, arriving at their home a week after his mother’s death. His aunt showed him to a small nook in the shop's storage room, and he stared at the floor unable to process anything, holding his pack which seemed to weigh a hundred tons. She threw a blanket on the ground and he realized belatedly that this dusty corner was where he was to sleep.

“My cousins were the real assholes,” he said, pushing aside the memory. “They tormented me just for fun.” He set the clean plate carefully on the pile of the others that were dripping wet. 

“What did they do?” Dean asked. He must have noticed an emotion betrayed on Castiel’s face because he added quickly, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Castiel tried to speak lightly. “Just idiotic stuff. Locked me in the storage room, blamed me for the messes they made, tried to push me down the well—”

“They pushed you down the well?”

“No, my uncle stopped them before they could.”

“What the fuck was wrong with them? Why did you live with them anyway?”

“My aunt took me in when my mother died, when I was twelve.”

“You didn’t have any other family?” Dean asked. “What about your father’s side?”

“I don’t know my father,” Castiel said. “He left before I was born.”

“Oh.” Dean began placing the clean dishware in the now empty basket and Castiel rinsed his hands in the river. 

“Actually,” he started, “My mother was never married.” He watched soap suds cluster around a stone and then spin away. “The man who was my father left when he learned she was pregnant and she never heard from him again.” He sat back and shook the water off his hands. “My mother was kind of the black sheep of the family. When she became pregnant with me, her father sent her away. My aunt hated her.”

“That’s why your aunt was such a bitch towards you?”

“Mmhhm.” He didn’t know why she had even agreed to take him in. Free labor, he supposed.

Dean sat cross legged across from him. “How did your mother die?” he asked, carefully, like he was afraid Castiel wouldn’t want to answer.

“She was sick.” It was an easy lie. 

Dean nodded. “My mother died of illness too.” He looked away, at the river. “She got sick when she had my brother and never recovered.”

“Sorry,” Castiel said, feeling guilty that Dean would think they had this in common, how their mothers died. 

Dean looked at him and smiled a little. “It’s alright, I don’t really remember.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Well, that’s not really true. I remember her lying in bed all the time. She was always burning up from fevers.” He dropped his hands in his lap. “It must’ve been a terrible way to die.”

“You have good memories of her too, though, don’t you?” Castiel asked. “You told me she liked to bake.”

Dean smiled. “Yeah, she was amazing. I’m sure you feel the same way about your mother.” Castiel nodded quickly, guilt rising in him. 

Dean reached out his hand and took Castiel’s, sparking the now familiar flutter in his stomach. Castiel remembered washing dishes on this bank soon after he’d arrived in the Forest. That time seemed so far away now.

He looked down at his and Dean's hands and guilt twisted his stomach. He pulled his hand away.

“They’re going to wonder what’s taking us so long,” he said, nodding in the direction of camp.

“They’re too lazy to come looking for us,” Dean said. But he stood when Castiel did, picking up the basket of clean dishes and nodding for him to go first into the woods back to camp.

* * *

Sometime late that night, after everyone had gone to their tents, Castiel went into the woods to relieve himself. He was returning back to his tent when he heard hushed voices speaking nearby. He paused, trying to discern who was speaking.

“We’ve got more important things to be doing.” That was Benny’s voice.

Stepping lightly, Castiel crept forward and tried to see through the trees. He could just make out two people standing a couple yards away.

“We should be training, hunting,” Benny continued, hushed. “But every time I turn around, Dean’s disappeared, off boning Castiel. I knew it, soon as Dean met him in Nottingham that we were in for it.”

Castiel frowned, taken aback. Was that really what everyone thought of him and Dean?

“Come on, it isn’t that bad.” That was Allan’s voice. “Dean’s happy. That’s something, right?”

“He was happy before. Castiel’s just a distraction. He can’t do shit, he’s just an extra mouth to feed.”

Castiel had known Benny didn’t like him, but he hadn’t realized Benny _hated_ him. He leaned forward, trying to hear.

“That’s not really fair,” Allan started. 

“And him and Gabriel are squires! There’s sure to be knights out looking for them.”

“You’re probably right,” Allan said. The leaves above stirred in the wind and Castiel lost the rest of his sentence. 

“All I’m saying,” he heard Benny say when the forest had quieted, “is that Dean’s got his head stuck in the sand and he’s gonna be mighty embarrassed when he comes to his senses and realizes Castiel isn’t worth all this.”

Benny and Allan walked off, but Castiel stood rooted to the spot. Trying to ignore the hurt feeling sinking in his stomach, he rallied his anger. _That asshole._ What did Benny know? 

Quietly, in case Benny and Allan were still nearby, he snuck back to his and Gabriel’s tent. Briefly, he thought of telling Dean what he had overheard, but what could Dean do? Besides, Castiel wasn’t a stranger to others disliking him. If anything, it was a more familiar feeling than what he had with Dean.

His mind tugged at a memory as he pulled his blankets up over himself and, though he tried to ignore it, it had already taken occupancy in his mind. A storm, raging outside. Sitting inside next to the fire, playing with wooden carved animals, and his mother sewing, her feet curled up under her as she held the stitches up to the firelight...

_“Silly Castiel,” she says, smiling at him as he runs a wooden horse across her feet. The warmth of the room, the steady roar of the rain, the dull thumps of the animals’ wooden feet against the floor lull him as he plays until he realizes his mother hasn’t made a sound for some time._

_Looking up, he catches his mother staring at him and a jolt runs through him. Immediately, his mother ducks her head, continues to sew, but he is frozen in place, fear gripping him at the look in her eyes, the anger concentrated in her gaze._

_She looks up again at him and the menace is gone from her eyes, replaced with annoyance._

_“It’s past your bedtime,” she says. “Put your toys away.”_

_His chest tightening, he obeys immediately, feels chills as he turns his back to her and climbs in bed._

Lying now in the tent, Castiel felt the same chill run down his spine. That look in his mother’s eyes never left him, even as he grew older. He had worried every time he looked at her, would make plenty of noise as he walked into a room to alert her of his presence, afraid to catch her unguarded and see again that hatred. 

Closing his eyes, Castiel tried to ignore the sense of unease stealing over him. He never could succeed in pushing the memories away. They snuck over him whenever he put his guard down. 

But he was safe now, there was no sense in revisiting the memories again. They were in the past, and there they would stay.

* * *

As the next day waned, Castiel helped Charlie cut fallen branches to make fuel for the fire. He’d been busy all day, helping with chores, and hadn’t seen Dean for a few hours now. Dean and Will had left before the midday meal to go hunting, but hadn't made it back yet. Castiel had been distracted all day anyway, hearing Benny and Allan’s conversation run through his head over and over. He stooped to grab one of the branches he'd cut and tried, for the hundredth time that day, to convince himself he didn't care what Benny and Allan thought of him.

He felt someone touch the back of his arm and straightened to see Dean. Behind him, near the tree line, he saw Will helping David cook meat from a dead deer.

“Sorry I disappeared earlier,” Dean said. “Will and I found some deer tracks and got caught up. Here, I can take those.” He took the pile of branches from Castiel’s arms. 

“Oh, thanks.” Castiel let Dean take the branches. He noticed a thin red scratch along Dean’s arm. “How’d you get that?”

Dean looked down at his arm and shook his head. “Don’t laugh, but I got distracted looking at tracks and a log came up out of nowhere and tripped me.” He looked at Charlie. “I said don’t laugh!”

Stifling laughter, Charlie placed another branch on top of the ones Dean was holding. “Funny how you and Will disappeared once we decided to clean up the glade.” She placed her hands on her hips. “I don’t know… what do you say, Castiel?”

“It does seem like a pretty convenient hunting trip,” Castiel said, trying to hide a smile. 

Dean flipped them off and Charlie stuck out her tongue at him. With a wink at Castiel, Dean left to carry the branches to where David was cooking dinner over the fire and Castiel watched him before turning back to Charlie. She ducked her head with a smile.

“What?” Castiel asked, reddening as he realized he had been smiling.

“Nothing.” Charlie waved her knife. “I mean, you two just seem like a good fit.” She lowered her voice. “I like you a lot more than Benny, anyway.”

Did everyone know about Dean and Benny? “Umm, thanks,” Castiel said.

“Charlie, stop embarrassing Cas,” Dean called, walking back to them. 

“You know me too well,” Charlie said. He smiled at her as she took a pile of branches to the fire.

“So, what did they have you do all day?” Dean asked Castiel.

Castiel gestured to the brush pile. “I’ve just been helping Charlie, and earlier David was showing me and Gabriel where different herbs grow.”

David clanged the mealtime bell, drawing their attention. Dean grabbed Castiel’s elbow and Castiel looked at him. “Hold that thought, we can talk later tonight. You can come over to my tent."

Something in Castiel's chest flittered. “Um, alright,” he said. Dean grinned and squeezed his arm.

At the campfire, Gabriel stared into a pot at the soup David had made. “Did you use the herbs I collected?” he asked. 

“You mean the ones I pointed out?" David asked, ladling soup into a bowl. "Or the ones you thought were important but were really weeds?” 

“They weren’t weeds, they were just herbs you’ve never heard of before.”

Castiel took the bowl David offered him and sat next to Gabriel. "Can you believe him?" Gabriel asked him, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

Castiel tried to smile. If Gabriel found out he was going to Dean’s tent, he would become unbearable. What if everyone else found out? He knew what Benny was already thinking, and he was sure everyone else’s thoughts weren’t far off.

_You’re overthinking this,_ he told himself and plunged his spoon into his bowl, trying to ignore the anxious feeling building in his stomach.

* * *

“All the nobles are idiots,” Will said. “Maybe Lady Marian excluded.”

“She’s the worst of them all,” Anna said, rolling her eyes.

“But it’s Prince John who’s in power,” Allan spoke up. “They’re only obeying him.”

“If it wasn’t Prince John, it would be someone else,” Little John said, gesturing with his spoon for emphasis. “If Prince John was to die today, there’d be a hundred nobles vying for his place. Remember when King Richard left, and Prince John was trying to take power? How many nobles 'passed away' all of a sudden? Everyone knows Prince John was sending his knights to kill them before they took control for themselves.” 

Thick clouds darkened the night sky and their fire illuminated a stack of dirty dishware. While in town, Allan had overheard a rumor that the Sheriff was in Prince John’s bad graces for having failed so far to catch the Hood. All the nobles were trying to position themselves to take his place should Prince John fire him. Castiel absentmindedly wondered how many knights were fighting each other to be next in line after the Sheriff. He wasn’t listening very intently to the conversation, too preoccupied with how close Dean was sitting to him.

“I’m right, aren’t I, Dean?” Little John asked. Castiel saw Benny look sharply at Dean from across the fire.

Dean looked up from where he had been knotting and unknotting his boot laces. “I’m sure you are,” he said. Castiel thought his smile seemed forced, but maybe he was only bored with the conversation. “Can’t trust the nobles.” 

Triumphant, Little John clattered his spoon in his bowl. Anna and Will argued over whether Lady Marian was truly an exception or whether Will was only 'swayed by her beauty,' as Anna contended.

Dean looked at Castiel and rolled his eyes. Castiel tried to share his amusement, but the nervous feeling in his stomach was growing.

“Well, you all can keep arguing until the sun rises, but I’m going to bed before it starts raining,” Charlie said, standing. She touched David’s shoulder, who was nodding off where he sat. He startled.

“There’s no need to argue,” Anna said breezily. “I know I’m right.” She followed Charlie off to their tent.

“Goodnight everyone,” David said, yawning and standing. Everyone began to disperse to their tents and Castiel stood. 

“Are you tired?” Dean asked him. “You can go to bed.”

"No, I'm fine," he started.

"You coming, Cas?" Gabriel called, heading to their tent.

"No, I, uh—" Gabriel turned and saw him standing next to Dean. He grinned and Castiel reddened. “I’ll be over in a moment,” he said quickly.

Crossing his arms against the wind, Castiel followed Dean to his tent, hoping everyone else had already disappeared into theirs. He didn’t know why he was being so wary since everyone already thought he and Dean were sleeping together.

Though that wasn't what was going to happen tonight, he quickly told himself. He didn't know why he was panicking—it wasn't that he didn't want to be with Dean, but he couldn’t help but remember that Dean had been with Benny, and wonder how close they had been, wonder if Dean expected—

Pushing the thought away, he followed Dean into his tent, sitting across from him. Dean lit a candle, the soft light pushing the shadows to the corners of the tent. The wind ceased to blow inside as Dean shut the tent flap, but Castiel kept his arms crossed against a deep chill. 

“Always some big discussion every night,” Dean said. He nudged Castiel’s foot with his and grinned. Castiel smiled back, but his heart was racing and he couldn’t stop shivering.

“You cold?” Dean asked. Castiel started to shake his head, but Dean was already grabbing a blanket. “Why are you sitting so far away?” he said. “Come here.” He made room for Castiel to sit next to him and Castiel moved over to his side. 

Draping the blanket over Castiel’s shoulders, Dean put one arm around him, drawing him closer. “You know,” he said, “There’s a waterfall near here—when Will and I were tracking that deer, we passed it and it reminded me. We should go over there sometime, you would like it. Everyone used to go over there all the time last summer.”

Castiel nodded, the blanket scratching his face, as Dean talked about the band's usual summers. A gust of wind rippled the tent walls, followed by the drumming of rain, and he slowly relaxed. Dean shifted against him and he entertained thoughts of what could happen tonight. But that set his heart thumping again. He pushed back the blanket a little, its weight suddenly confining. 

“You alright?” Dean asked, pulling back suddenly to look at him. “You were so quiet tonight.”

“No, I’m alright,” Castiel hastened to say. “I’m only tired, I didn’t sleep well—”

“You can sleep here, if you want.” Dean looked up at the tent roof. “If you don’t want to go out into the rain.”

His heartbeat quickened. “Um, sure.” 

Dean smiled at him, then lifted his hand to touch Castiel's cheek, raising the hairs on Castiel’s body. Before Dean could kiss him, though, Castiel drew back.

“Dean,” he started, flushing, “I’m not, I don’t want to... not yet.”

“No, oh." Dean dropped his hand from Castiel's face. "I wasn't trying to—I didn't mean—"

_Why do I always overthink things?_ Castiel bemoaned inwardly. "I’m sorry," he said, more embarrassed than ever. 

“No, Cas, it’s alright. Honestly.” Dean touched Castiel’s arm through the blanket. “I wouldn't want to do anything unless you’re ready.”

Castiel nodded. The wind blustered outside and the candle flame flickered, the light playing along Dean’s face. “Do you still want to stay?” Dean asked.

He was still embarrassed, but at least he wasn't panicking anymore. Castiel nodded again. "I’ll stay.”

Dean moved the candle to the side and Castiel pulled the blanket off from around his shoulders, laid it on top of the others. Dean lifted up the blankets for them to slip under.

Reaching over, he blew out the candle and the tent was dark. Lying down next to Castiel, he started to slip his arm around him, then hesitated. Castiel felt a sudden warmth towards him for the way he asked, “Is this alright?” 

“Yes,” Castiel said. Dean settled down next to him, then the only sounds filling the tent were the rainfall, the wind.

Under the weight and warmth of the blankets and Dean’s arm, Castiel's heartbeat slowed, and the tension in his shoulders eased at the relief that Dean had understood. Dean’s fingers moved almost imperceptibly through his hair, and Castiel nestled closer to him, felt the rise and fall of Dean’s chest.

“This is… nice," he said.

Around them, the steady patter continued as rain fell outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I'm already halfway through this story yikes
> 
> thanks to everyone reading along, you all make me so happy :)


	11. Part 3: On the Road

“Shit.” Castiel lowered his bow. Morning sunlight filtered through the trees, illuminating the arrow he'd just shot. It stuck out of the ground a few feet from his target, a tree Dean had carved a mark into.

“I thought all squires learned how to shoot as a page,” Dean said, coming forward with his own bow. They had woken before the rest of the band and Dean had brought him to a small clearing away from the glade for archery practice. Not surprisingly, Castiel hadn't hit the target yet.

“I was never a page.” Castiel watched Dean notch an arrow and draw his bow. 

“How’d you become a squire then?” Dean looked at Castiel and let loose the arrow as he spoke. It struck the mark dead center.

“Show off,” Castiel muttered and Dean grinned. Picking up another arrow, Castiel explained, “My aunt and uncle got tired of me after two years of living with them, so when I was fourteen they sent me away to the castle. Not that I minded." He fiddled with the arrow in his hands. "I’m pretty sure they bribed some people to let me become a squire. That shows you how badly they wanted to get rid of me. But it also meant I was years behind in training.”

“Well, it’s never too late to learn.” Dean set down his bow in the grass. “Here, come on, I’ll show you.” Grabbing Castiel's elbow, he pulled him to stand across from the marked tree. “First things first, check your arrow. If it’s got a split feather, it won’t fly straight.” He studied the feather Castiel held and nodded. “Alright, now, aim at the mark.”

Castiel raised his bow and arrow. Putting his hand on Castiel’s hip, Dean positioned him more sideways and Castiel stiffened. “Pull back on the string.” 

Castiel did so, trying to focus on aiming and not on how close Dean was standing.

“You’re too tense,” Dean said. Moving around him, he steadied Castiel's arm, and Castiel caught him fighting back a smile. 

“Are you going to teach me or make fun of me?” Castiel protested, lowering his bow.

“Fine, fine. But I’m not going to bite, so try and relax.”

Castiel shook his head and raised his bow again, trying to remember how Dean had positioned him. Dean tapped his elbow and Castiel raised his arm slightly.

“There you go. Just trust yourself.” Dean stepped back. “Now try.”

Castiel studied the mark and tried to steady his breathing. Keeping his eyes on the target, he released the arrow and it struck the tree to the right of the mark. Brightening, he lowered his bow to look at Dean.

“Not bad,” Dean said, nodding. “Soon, you’ll be rivaling the best of us.” Faintly, the sound of the mealtime bell reached them through the trees. 

Gathering their things, they headed back to the glade. Dean swatted at a spider's web near their heads. “So, um, I wanted to ask you," he started. Castiel looked at him. "I need to make a trip to Locksley. Would you want to come? It’s about a three days walk.”

“You mean where your brother lives?”

“Yeah, I try to visit him when I can." Dean kicked a rock a few paces away. "I, uh, I thought maybe you could meet him.”

Dean wanted _him_ to meet his brother? “I’d love to," he said genuinely.

Dean looked relieved. “Great, I wanted to leave today, if that’s alright.” Castiel nodded. “You’ll really like Samuel, and Bobby too—that’s who Sammy lives with, who’s been taking care of him."

They were nearing the glade and Castiel could hear voices carrying through the forest. "Hey, and, um..." Dean slowed his pace. "Would you mind not telling anyone where we're going?"

"Uh, sure." Castiel hesitated, then ventured, "Why?"

"It's... complicated." Castiel frowned and Dean shook his head. "I don’t know, it’s just, having the Sheriff after me, I try to not tell people too much. It's safer if the band doesn't know where I'm headed."

Castiel nodded. Made sense, he supposed. "Alright."

Entering the glade, they joined the others at the fire and Dean announced, “Cas and I are gonna be gone for a few days. We’re traveling to another town.”

Gabriel raised his eyebrows at Castiel and Castiel shrugged.

“You and Castiel,” Benny said flatly.

“Yes,” Dean said, giving him a look Castiel couldn't read before turning to Little John and asking him to take charge while he was gone. Castiel tried to ignore the stony glare Benny aimed his way.

They packed after breakfast and David handed Castiel foodstuffs to put in his pack. “So, you get to go on one of Dean’s mysterious trips,” he said. 

“You can’t tell us where you’re going?” Gabriel asked.

“No, sorry.” Castiel looked at where Dean was talking to Benny near the tents. “Dean said it's safer if everyone doesn't know."

David shrugged. “It’s alright, we’re used to it. Every once and awhile, Dean disappears for a few days at a time. We’ll take care of things over here.”

“Have fun on your little holiday,” Gabriel said and Castiel chose to ignore the way he was smiling.

He looked back at Dean and Benny. “I’m guessing Benny usually goes along with Dean.”

David followed his gaze. “Yeah.” He looked back at Castiel and smiled a little. “Don't worry, he'll get over it.”

Grabbing the last of his things from his tent, Castiel slung his pack over his shoulder along with the bow and arrows Dean had given him to use. He waited a few feet away from where Dean was talking to Benny, trying to hear their conversation.

“You sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Benny asked Dean.

“No, stay here, keep an ear out for any news of the Sheriff.” Dean hit Benny lightly on the shoulder. “It’s nothing against you, I just want Cas to meet Sammy.”

“Well, say hi to them for me.”

Dean nodded and, turning, met Castiel’s eyes. “Ready to go?”

* * * 

As they walked through the woods, Castiel asked Dean, “Is Bobby one of your relatives?”

“No, just a friend.” Dean shifted the strap of his pack against his shoulder. “Samuel and I met him when my father died. We left home and ended up passing through Locksley and meeting Bobby.”

Castiel frowned. “I thought you were from Locksley. Didn’t you grow up there?”

“Oh, no.” Dean pulled on his pack’s strap again, seeming nervous. “I guess I did kind of imply that. No, um, we grew up near Winchester.”

The name sounded familiar, though Castiel couldn’t place it. Dean glanced at him. “I always say Locksley because Sammy and I both lived there for a bit with Bobby. And Bobby offered to take care of Sammy when I left." He frowned. "I guess everyone else in the band thinks I’m from Locksley too.”

“Except for Benny,” Castiel said, unable to disguise the annoyance in his voice.

“Right,” Dean said, hesitantly. “Sorry, I guess I could’ve told you.”

“It’s alright,” Castiel said, trying to sound genuine. There was no real reason Dean should've told him. He'd only known Dean for a few weeks—why would Dean tell him something most of his closest friends didn't know?

They ducked under a tree which had fallen over to lean on another. A bird cawed loudly above their heads, and a worry crept over Castiel that he'd never know anything of Dean that Benny didn’t already know. 

"Why didn’t you stay with your brother?” he asked, trying to push the thought away. "Why did you come to Sherwood Forest?"

“I had to leave... it was, um... it was safer that way.” Dean caught Castiel’s eye and shook his head, looking away. “It’s hard to explain, but I had to keep moving. And then I met Benny and we started robbing the rich and living in the glade and, before we knew it, there was a price on our heads.” 

“That’s why Samuel doesn’t live here with you now?”

Dean nodded. “Living in the glade, with the Sheriff always after us, it doesn’t seem right for a kid. He’s learning the carpentry trade from Bobby, he’s doing really well. I don’t want to take away his opportunity for a normal life.”

Castiel nodded, though he was still wondering why Dean would leave Samuel in the first place. What had Dean been trying to protect his brother from? 

By noonday, they had reached the main road and left the woods to pass through fields and farms. Dean kept up a steady stream of conversation—to avoid addressing whatever it was he didn’t want to talk about, Castiel suspected. They stopped for a quick midday meal and, as they sat on the low stone wall bordering the road, Castiel ventured to raise another question.

“Do Samuel and Bobby know you’re the Hood?” he asked.

To his surprise, Dean nodded. “Samuel thinks it’s the greatest thing ever.” He smiled a little. “I'd be worried he’d start boasting about it to others, but he doesn’t have too many friends. He’s kinda a quiet kid.”

“What does Bobby think?”

“He thinks I’m an idiot.” Dean grinned. “But he can’t complain since I always bring enough when I visit to help support Samuel.” Standing, Dean shoved their leftover food into his pack. “Just you wait, Bobby will ask me about some ridiculous rumor he’s heard—casually, as if he’s not concerned, but you can tell he wants to know if our band is really so insane.”

"In his defense, robbing royal families is kind of crazy," Castiel said, standing and shouldering his pack.

"Can't be that bad," Dean said. "You've joined us, haven't you?" Castiel smiled.

They started walking down the road and Castiel said, “When I was at the castle, I heard a rumor that you robbed one of our knights after he collected taxes. He got in trouble because then he had to go to the Sheriff empty-handed.”

Dean grinned. “That’s true. And all the money went back to the people he had taken it from.”

“Well, I’m glad. We all thought he was lying to cover up stealing the money. A lot of the knights try to do that.”

“Aren’t you glad you escaped from them?” Dean asked, bumping his shoulder into Castiel's and grinning at him.

“Very.”

* * *

As the sun ducked behind the hills and they stopped to camp for the night, Dean told Castiel stories of when he and Samuel were young. In a field beyond the road, under a crooked tree, their fire crackled as Dean told Castiel of how one time, he broke a pitcher while his father was gone from home. To cover up the accident, he and Samuel adopted a dog and then blamed him when their father returned.

“All these stories have a similar theme,” Castiel said when the dog had been scolded and sent outside, only to be rescued by Dean and snuck into Samuel’s bed. 

“What’s that?”

“They all involve you almost getting in trouble.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I have plenty where I get caught. But those stories aren’t as entertaining.” He grinned and looked up at Castiel from where he lay on the grass. “What are your stories?”

“I don’t have any so interesting.” Castiel poked at the coals of the fire with a stick.

“Oh, let me guess, you were the perfect child,” Dean teased. “If you did something wrong, you told your mother before she found out because you felt so guilt-ridden. That is, if you _did_ something wrong. And I’m sure everyone in town loved you.”

There was a tightness in Castiel’s throat that made it hard to speak, “Something like that,” he said.

Dean’s smile faded and he sat up. “What’s wrong? What did I say?”

Castiel shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“No, really." Dean put a hand on Castiel’s knee. "Cas, you can tell me.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Castiel drew his knees up to his chest and Dean pulled his hand back. He studied him but didn’t press the issue, and Castiel stared into the fire, inwardly cursing himself for his reaction. Why couldn’t he just play it off? Now Dean would wonder, might ask questions about Castiel's mother, his childhood. 

To change the subject, Castiel asked, “If you and Samuel are so close, why do you keep him a secret from the band?”

Dean stared at the fire for a long moment before replying, “At first, it was only to keep him safe—”

“Safe from what?” Castiel interrupted, then reddened, embarrassed at his forwardness. 

Dean glanced at him, then back at the fire. “It doesn’t matter,” he said with a faint smile.

Castiel tossed the stick into the fire. “Touché.” 

“I trust the band, I do," Dean said, "but I’ve kept Sammy a secret for so long that I don’t see how I can tell them now. What am I supposed to say? ‘I know we’ve known each other for a long time and we trust each other like family but, by the way, I have a brother who I visit once a month and have kept a secret from all of you this whole time'?" 

“They might understand," Castiel said. "Besides, they’re wondering what you’re keeping from them. They want to know.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Maybe you're right. Maybe I should tell them. I know Samuel would love to meet them all.” He ran a hand over his face. “Anyway. I’m exhausted. We've got another long day ahead of us tomorrow.” Grabbing his pack, he pulled out a blanket and began spreading it out by the fire.

Castiel grabbed his own blanket and laid it out a few feet away. He looked up to see Dean watching him, an eyebrow raised. 

“What?” Castiel asked, sitting back on his heels. 

“If you don’t want to be near me, alright, I just thought you liked me—”

Castiel sighed. “Fine.” He dragged his blanket next to Dean’s and smoothed it out.

Dean grinned. “Much better.” Castiel couldn’t help a smile.

They settled down, Dean throwing an arm over him, and, staring at the fire, Castiel wished he could follow his own advice—share his own secrets, tell Dean about his mother, about everything. Maybe Dean would understand. Maybe that was what had drawn them together—some deep-seated knowledge that they both held secrets. But Castiel had kept everything buried inside for so long, he wouldn’t know how to speak of it if he tried.

* * *

“Fucking hell,” Dean said, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm. “It’s so humid.”

Castiel nodded, pulling out his canteen. The day had grown hotter and hotter as the sun rose, and they had left the wide open road, jumping over the stone wall to walk in the shade of the bordering woods. 

Dean looked up at the sky. “I swear, if it rains...”

“I wish it would,” Castiel said, peering inside his canteen. Empty.

“Wait a moment." Dean paused and scanned the woods. "I think I know where we are.” Without warning, he plunged into the woods. 

“Dean?” Castiel called. He followed, losing sight of Dean behind a few trees, then finding him on the bank of a rippling river. Dean had thrown down his pack and was stripping off to his undergarments.

“Come on,” he said, looking up at Castiel before climbing down the steep bank into the river. Trying to avoid staring at Dean's bare skin, Castiel looked around at the place where they'd stopped. The river glinted in the sunlight, shadows from the trees along the bank dappling its surface. On the opposite bank from where Castiel stood, a tree bent over the water, its branches and leaves trailing into the splashing river.

Sliding his pack off his shoulder, Castiel sat down and pulled off his boots. Dean ducked under the water and came up again, shaking the hair out of his face. Castiel sat on the bank and dangled his legs into the cool water. He hated the thought, but he couldn’t help wonder if Dean knew this place because he had been here with Benny before.

“Come on, Cas, get in,” Dean said, splashing over to the bank. He grabbed one of Castiel’s legs with a cold hand and pulled him towards the water.

“It’s freezing.” Castiel pulled his leg away up onto the bank.

“Yeah, but it feels great.” Dean leaned onto the bank and looked up at Castiel, resting his chin on his folded arms. 

Castiel splashed water at him. “Stop staring at me.”

“Only if you get in.”

“Alright, alright.” He stood and pulled off his tunic, then hesitated and looked at Dean who was still leaning on the bank. “Can you, please?” He moved his finger in a circle and Dean rolled his eyes good-naturedly. He turned around and Castiel hastily pulled off his undershirt and breeches. He slid off the bank and dropped into the water, instinctively raising his arms from hitting the water. 

“Shit.” The cold almost took his breath away and he crossed his arms above the water. 

“See, great, right?” Dean had turned around when Castiel got in the river and now he splashed water at Castiel. 

“No, stop it.” Castiel flinched away from the water droplets.

Dean laughed. “Go under and get it over with already.”

Castiel glared at him, then ducked under quickly and came up just as fast, gasping from the cold. He pushed his hair out of his eyes. 

“There must’ve been a huge storm here,” Dean said, looking around. He pointed to the right. “That tree wasn’t like that the last time I was here.”

A large oak had fallen across the river, its long roots exposed and jutting out into the air, its trunk bridging the two banks. Castiel fought to avoid asking when Dean had been here last, and with who.

Dean splashed water at him again, drawing his attention away. “What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Castiel said quickly.

Dean laughed. “Alright. Mysterious.” He sunk in the water up to his shoulders.

 _What better time?_ Castiel reasoned. “I know about you and Benny,” he blurted out.

“What?” Dean stood and water trickled down his chest. 

He seemed to be fighting for words so Castiel said, “Benny told me.”

“Why the fuck would he...” Dean looked away and bit his lip. Castiel watched him nervously. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything; Dean might be angry with him for bringing it up. “When did he tell you?” Dean finally asked, looking back at him.

“A few days ago.”

Dean studied him. “I’m sure he made it out to be more than it was.”

“What was it then?” Castiel crossed his arms again, the chill of the water returning. 

Dean sighed. “When we met and traveled together, we grew close, and we slept together a few times. But I realized soon enough we were better as friends and, since then, that’s what we’ve been.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why he would tell you. I know he’s been an asshole to you. I don’t know why, maybe he’s just jealous that we’ve gotten closer, I don’t know.”

So it had been a while ago, Castiel thought. Not recently as Benny had made it seem. “Were you ever going to tell me?” he asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, of course," Dean said quickly. "But it happened so long ago and...” He dropped one of his hands into the water, sending up a splash. “It’s embarrassing. I was all mixed up at the time and Benny was there for me and, looking back, I mean, I appreciate everything he did for me, but I don’t know why I slept with him. And I’m glad we’re able to be friends now. I guess I didn’t want to make it seem more significant than it was.”

“Does everybody else know? About you and Benny?”

Dean shrugged. “I’ve never told anyone. Maybe Benny has.” 

Maybe Castiel had only misread what Charlie said after all. He ducked his head and watched the water swirl around him, feeling embarrassed for letting Benny get to him, for making him question every moment he’d had with Dean.

“I’ll talk to Benny,” Dean said. “He needs to stop doing shit like this—”

“No, don’t.” Castiel looked up quickly. “I don’t want to start trouble between you two.”

“Well, I’m with you now, so he needs to stop. And, even if I wasn’t, it isn’t right. He’s got to know he’s being a dick.” 

Castiel nodded, knowing he couldn’t change Dean’s mind. He watched water splash against the bank and hoped Benny didn’t only grow angrier with him. 

Dean glanced up at the sky. “We should keep moving if we want to reach Locksley tomorrow in the daylight.”

Climbing out of the river, they dressed and started back to the road. Dean was silent and Castiel didn't know what he was thinking. Maybe he was angry Castiel had put so much stake into what Benny had said—Castiel was certainly irritated at himself for doing so.

They had almost reached the edge of the woods when Dean grabbed Castiel’s arm and stopped him. Surprised, Castiel turned to face him.

“Listen, if you’re angry at me, I understand,” Dean started. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you.”

“No, Dean, I’m not angry at you. I just..." Castiel looked away, studied a patch of sunlight hitting the base of a tree. “I just wish I hadn’t let it bother me so much.”

“Cas.” Dean kept his hold on Castiel's arm and Castiel met his eyes. Dean looked at him steadily. “I couldn’t be happier that you’re here. You’re the one I want to be with. Don't let Benny or anyone else make you doubt that.” 

Castiel nodded, feeling his face heat at Dean's words. An uncertainty filled him—this was too good to be true. There was no way Dean could truly mean such things.

Dean was watching him, eyes serious, and Castiel's heart beat faster in his chest. He wanted so badly to believe Dean meant what he said. 

“I want to be with you too,” he said. Dean's smile sparked a flutter in his chest and he smiled back. Stepping closer, his heart rising in his throat, he put a hand to the back of Dean's neck and pulled him closer to kiss him. 


	12. Locksley

Dean and Castiel reached Locksley as the sun was making their shadows long on the ground. The road they walked on turned from its secluded path into the outskirts of a town and Dean pointed to a two-story house nestled among tall trees. “That’s Bobby’s,” he said. 

He'd hardly finished speaking when the front door swung open and a young, short boy ran towards them.

“Dean!” he yelled and Dean crouched down and grabbed him, swung him up in a hug. An older man came out of the house and walked over, smiling.

“Sammy!” Dean set Samuel down and put his hands on his shoulders. “You’ve gotten so much taller.”

Samuel grinned. “I know.” 

Dean looked up at the older man and smiled. “Hey Bobby.” They hugged each other and Castiel watched, feeling out of place in the warm welcome Dean was receiving. Then Dean stepped back and put a hand on Castiel's arm. “I want you guys to meet Castiel. He recently joined our band.”

“Hi,” Castiel said, and Bobby stepped forward to shake his hand.

“Nice to meet ya, boy.”

Samuel edged closer to Dean, glancing between him and Castiel. “Come on, Sammy, don’t be shy,” Dean said, ruffling Samuel’s hair. 

"I'm not!" Samuel protested. He looked up at Castiel with a small smile. "Nice to meet you." Castiel smiled back.

“I figured you’d be showing up soon,” Bobby said to Dean as they started walking to the house. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, it has been. A lot's happened since.” Dean glanced back at Castiel and smiled. 

“Dean!” Samuel exclaimed. “You have to meet someone.” He ran inside ahead of them and when they entered the house's lower level—a carpenter’s work room—he was calling a golden haired dog inside from the back yard. 

“Who's this?” Dean asked, bending down on one knee to pet the dog as it bounded up to them. Castiel smiled as the dog ran around them.

“Sir Galahad. From the legend of King Arthur.”

“That’s quite a name,” Dean said, laughing. “I thought you hated dogs, Bobby.”

Bobby shrugged. “I hate this one less, I guess.” He led them up the stairs to the living quarters: one wide room with a table and chairs and two rooms adjacent. More furniture than Castiel had seen in any other house he’d been in. Everything was made of wood so he assumed it was all Bobby’s handiwork.

“We just ate,” Bobby said. “But sit down, I’ll grab you both some food.” Castiel and Dean sat at the table, setting their packs down on the floor. A pot of stew—judging from the smell—was still bubbling over the fire and a breeze blew in through an open window. 

Samuel dragged his chair closer to Dean and picked up Dean’s bow. “While you’re here, can we have more archery practice?"

“Sure,” Dean said. He tugged on Samuel’s hair. “You’re gonna need a haircut to be able to see the target though.” He grinned as Samuel smacked his hand away.

“So, you just joined the band, huh?” Bobby asked Castiel, ladling stew into a bowl.

“Uh, yes,” Castiel replied. “My friend Gabriel and I.”

“How many’s that make now?” Bobby asked Dean, plunking two bowls of stew onto the table and sitting down.

“Ten of us.”

Bobby nodded. “A lot more than when you started out.” He scratched his beard. “I heard the Sheriff was after you. A baron was robbed right outside Nottingham?”

Dean glanced at Castiel, a smile tugging at his mouth. “That was us. It was actually right after I met you, Cas. We were leaving the city and saw an opportunity, thought we’d take it.”

Castiel realized he had heard of the robbery, only at the time he’d had no idea the Hood was Dean. 

Bobby shook his head. “You guys are getting bolder. The more of you there are, the more cautious you have to be.”

“The more of us there are, the easier it is to rob caravans,” Dean argued. “Don’t worry, Bobby—”

“I ain’t worrying,” Bobby cut in gruffly, “Just making sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

“Right,” Dean said, grinning. “Well, we’ll be careful.”

Shaking his head, Bobby stood to grab a jug of ale from a shelf. Dean winked at Castiel.

“Where’s Benny?” Samuel piped up.

“Stayed behind," Dean replied. "I figured I’d have Cas come this time.” 

“Can Charlie come next time? Or Little John? I really want to meet them.”

“We’ll see,” Dean said. He glanced at Castiel, then back at Samuel. “Um, actually, I was thinking maybe you two could visit sometime.”

“Visit the glade?” Samuel’s eyes widened. He turned around in his chair. “Bobby, did you hear?” 

Bobby set a few mugs on the table. “I don’t know if that’s such a great idea…”

“Sometime when the knights aren’t actively looking for us,” Dean said. “The glade is safe, honest—the Forest is so big no one knows where our camp is. And the rest of the band would love to meet you. Right, Cas?"

"Yes, of course," Castiel said.

“Please, Bobby,” Samuel pleaded.

Frowning, Bobby sat down. “I’ll think about it."

Dean grinned at Samuel. “I think that means yes.”

Castiel smiled as Samuel pushed his chair back and hugged Bobby. "Thank you!" 

"Alright, calm down," Bobby said gruffly and Dean laughed.

"And you’ll take me on a robbery?” Samuel asked Dean.

“No!” Bobby spoke up before Dean could answer.

“How about we wait until you’re better with a bow?” Dean said. 

“I’ve been practicing!” Samuel exclaimed.

“Great. I’m sure you’ll be able to beat Cas.” Dean grinned at Castiel and Castiel rolled his eyes.

Samuel looked at Castiel. “Are you really good, like Dean?”

“Not at all,” Castiel admitted.

“There was an archery competition here a few years ago,” Bobby said to Castiel while pouring the ale into the mugs. “Dean won, impressed everyone. A knight even asked him to join the Sheriff’s service.”

“Become a knight?” Castiel asked, amused. 

“I told him I wouldn’t be in service to anyone, least of all the Sheriff,” Dean said. “It didn’t go over well.”

“No,” Bobby agreed. “But the townspeople still ask after you all the time, so you gained their admiration at least.” He motioned to them. "Now eat before your food gets cold."

As they ate, Dean recounted what the band had done since he’d seen Samuel and Bobby last. Samuel listened with rapt attention, asking question after question, and even Bobby listened with interest, though he feigned disapproval at much of what Dean said. There was a tug in Castiel's chest, a small sadness, as he watched how close Dean was to his brother and Bobby, how comfortable they all were around each other. He wished he could've had such a family.

“And then we sent Lady Marian on her way,” Dean finished. “Though I’m sure we’ll see her again.” Bobby snorted. A chilly breeze made Castiel glance outside and realize it was dark.

“Time for bed, Samuel,” Bobby said. 

“But Dean’s here!" Samuel protested.

“I’ll be here all day tomorrow,” Dean said. He gave Samuel a light shove. “Go on. Cas and I are going to bed soon too, anyway.”

Reluctantly, Samuel stood and went to one of the other rooms. Castiel saw him pause in the doorway and discreetly motion for Sir Galahad to follow him.

“Nope,” Bobby said without watching him, and Samuel rolled his eyes and stopped Sir Galahad from coming into the bedroom.

“He’s been insufferable this past week,” Bobby said when the bedroom door had shut. “Keeping watch, waiting for you to show up.”

“Sorry,” Dean said. “There’s been a lot going on recently.”

“Right, and when did this happen?” Bobby motioned to Dean and Castiel, and Castiel reddened. He hadn't expected Bobby to pick up on anything. Though, he supposed, just the fact that Dean brought him here would suggest he and Dean were close. 

“Shit, Bobby," Dean set down his mug. "You’re making Cas uncomfortable."

“It’s alright,” Castiel said quickly. He looked at Bobby and explained, “I met Dean about two months ago when I was a squire and then I left to join him and the band.”

“Well, can’t say I’m surprised,” Bobby said. “Seems more people are aligning themselves with 'the Hood' everyday. The Sheriff sure isn’t doing anything to make anyone love him.” He pointed at Dean. “Dean’s the first to really do something about the way Prince John is treating us commoners—though I wouldn’t have expected it when I first met him.”

“Oh, brother, don’t start,” Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"You know how I met Dean and Sammy?" Bobby asked Castiel. Castiel shook his head and Bobby settled back in his chair. “One night, I heard some noise outside and found them camping out in my shed, like two vagrants. Lucky for them, I didn’t kick them out, but let them stay in exchange for working for me.” He shrugged. “Could always use the help. Samuel’s been learning the trade, but Dean...” He glanced at Dean, and Castiel thought he saw Dean shake his head slightly. Bobby shifted in his chair. “Dean, it seems, had no interest in that, so he left to piss off the Sheriff.”

“And we’re succeeding, right, Cas?” Dean asked, tapping the table and looking at Bobby.

“Seems so,” Castiel said, looking back and forth between them, wondering what Bobby had been going to say. He'd thought meeting Bobby would answer more questions about Dean, but he was being just as cryptic as Dean.

Dean changed the subject, asked about someone in town, and he and Bobby talked about names Castiel didn’t recognize. Growing tired, Castiel spoke up and said, “If you guys will excuse me, I should go to sleep.”

“Here, I’ll grab you some blankets,” Bobby said, standing and going into the bedroom.

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. “I didn't realize it was so late. Bobby and I could talk for hours.”

“It’s alright, you guys keep talking.” Castiel pushed his chair back from the table and stood.

Dean nodded. “Sorry about Bobby, I can’t keep anything a secret from him.” 

For a moment, Castiel thought Dean was referring to whatever he and Bobby had silently agreed to not speak of. Then he realized Dean was speaking of how Bobby knew about his and Dean's relationship. He nodded. “You two seem very close.”

“Here you go,” Bobby said, coming out of the bedroom and handing Castiel two blankets. He pointed to the room next to the kitchen. “You can make yourself at home in there, just push aside all the crap. I have a couple of unfinished projects scattered around.”

“Alright, thanks. Goodnight.”

“'Night, Cas,” Dean said. 

* * *

Castiel opened his eyes to darkness, slowly catching the shadowy shapes of trunks and half-caned chairs. He must've fallen asleep, though not for long because Dean wasn't in the room yet. Lying there in the quiet, he could hear Dean and Bobby talking in hushed voices in the kitchen. 

He was on the cusp of drifting off back to sleep when he heard Bobby say, “He doesn’t know?” Dean must have shook his head because Bobby then said, “Are you going to tell him? You _are_ courting him.” 

Realizing they were speaking of him, Castiel became wide awake. He lay still, quieting his breathing, trying to hear. 

“I know, I know," Dean said. A chair creaked. “It just isn’t easy, I want to make sure Sammy’s safe—”

“Do you not trust him?” Castiel’s stomach dropped. He strained to hear the answer, dread filling him.

Dean sighed. “I _do_ trust him. I know he’d understand, least, I think he would.”

Castiel exhaled, realizing he had been holding his breath as he waited for Dean's answer. Relief filled him, along with surprise. He had gained Dean’s trust? Dean held that much confidence in _him_?

“Well, then you’ll find the right time.”

At the sound of chairs being pushed back, Castiel rolled over and feigned sleep. Through his closed eyelids, he saw a faint light, then he heard Dean come into the room and lay out a blanket beside him. He felt Dean's arm brush his back as he lay down, and then there was darkness and the room was still again.

Castiel opened his eyes. His heart was still racing. He could feel Dean’s back against his, lightly.

Dean trusted him. A smile crept onto his face. 

But what was Dean keeping from him? Then, again, what right did he have to know what Dean was hiding? Wasn’t he hesitant to tell Dean everything, too? Then, an uneasy thought: Did he not trust Dean like Dean did him?

Castiel tried to reason with himself: everything he kept secret was nothing Dean would care to know anyway. And maybe he would tell Dean. A cold fear insisted he would not, but he pushed it aside. He could tell Dean, he could.

* * *

When Castiel awoke to sunlight pouring through the window in the room, Dean wasn’t next to him. Voices carried through a light breeze and, going to the window, he saw Dean and Samuel outside in the yard, Samuel holding a bow.

“Look who’s up,” Dean said, smiling, as Castiel walked over to them. He turned back to Samuel. “Alright, give it a go.”

Focusing on the target, his tongue sticking out in focus, Samuel let go of his arrow. It struck a marked tree a few yards off and he whooped. Sir Galahad barked and ran to the tree.

“That was great!” Dean exclaimed, clapping Samuel on the back. “You _have_ been practicing.”

Samuel grinned, and Castiel saw something of Dean in the way he shrugged and said, “I got a bullseye once.”

“No kidding?” Dean jabbed a thumb at Castiel. “You’re better than him, and he was a squire.” He grinned at Castiel and Castiel shook his head, smiling.

“You were a squire?” Samuel asked Castiel. “You were going to be a knight?”

“Well, I was going to try, anyway.”

Samuel looked at Dean. “You wanted to be a knight, didn’t you? You were always talking to them at the manor.” Dean made a sudden movement as if to stop Samuel from talking and Samuel looked at him in confusion.

“The manor?” Castiel asked, looking back and forth between them.

“Yeah,” Samuel started.

Dean interrupted him, “Our father would deliver leather goods to the Duke’s manor, and we would go with him sometimes. There were always knights around.” He put a hand on Samuel’s shoulder. “Let’s grab some food, I’m starving.”

Castiel followed them inside, only more confused. Dean had never told him anything about a manor he’d visited as a kid. The conversation he'd overheard last night between Dean and Bobby played in his mind.

Dean grabbed a loaf of bread from a shelf and Castiel moved over to let Sir Galahad go to Samuel’s side. “Where’s Bobby?” he asked.

“Went into town to deliver something to a customer. He’ll be back this afternoon." He looked dismally at the loaf of bread. "Hope he’s buying more food." Sitting at the table, he asked, "So, Sammy, what's new in town. You made any friends?”

“Yeah, Sir Galahad.” Samuel sat on the floor and stroked Sir Galahad’s fur.

“I mean real life people.”

Samuel sighed. “Dean, if you met the kids my age around here you would understand.” Castiel smiled a little; he could understand that.

Dean laughed. “They can’t be that bad.” Samuel shrugged and Dean frowned. “They haven’t been bothering you, have they?”

Samuel shook his head, but Castiel thought the expression on his face belied his denial. 

Dean must’ve thought so too, because he threw the loaf of bread onto the table. “What did they do?” 

“It’s fine,” Samuel started, “I just stay away from them.” An image flashed through Castiel’s mind that made his chest tighten.

“Tell me who they are, and I’ll rip their heads off.”

Castiel stopped listening. He saw his mother turn to look at him from where she stood hanging clothes to dry outside. He held a hand to his nose, trying to stop it from bleeding, and his mother only gave him a blank stare before turning back to the dripping clothes. The tears he had been trying to keep back started running down his face and she said without looking at him, “Stop crying, Castiel.”

“But—”

“I told you to stay away from those boys.”

“It's not fair!” His mother’s shoulders tensed but he continued, recklessly, “You’re the one they’re scared of. Everyone calls you crazy behind your back—”

His mother turned on him, her eyes fierce. “You think I don’t know?” She grabbed his arm and dug her fingers into his skin. “Do you want to know why they hate me? Because of you! I wouldn’t be living in filth if it wasn’t for you!”

“Cas, you alright?” 

Castiel focused, saw Dean and Samuel staring at him. He tried to nod. “I’m fine.” His voice came out shaky.

Dean stood up and touched his arm. “You sure? You went white.”

“No, I’m fine, really. I just need—” his words choked off and he pushed past Dean to the stairs. He ran down them, nearly tripping, and went outside. He needed space, he needed to breathe, he needed to be alone. Tears sprung to his eyes and he paused, leaned on one of the trees, tried to catch his breath.

 _It's just a memory,_ he told himself. Tilting his head back, he stared up at the boughs, then felt a shiver pass down his spine and looked down, studied the grass. The branches creaked in a breeze and the hairs stood up on the back of his neck. 

_There’s nothing there,_ he thought. Squeezing his fist shut, he dug his nails into his palm. _Calm down, calm down, stop it._

Hearing footsteps, he looked up. Dean was walking towards him. Crossing his arms, he scuffed the heel of his boot into the ground.

“Cas?” Dean stopped in front of him. “Is everything alright?”

“Sorry, I—” Castiel shook his head and took a deep breath. “I, um, I just remembered something.”

“You looked scared.”

“It wasn't a good memory.” Avoiding Dean's eyes, he looked up at the clouds stretching across the sky.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Castiel pushed himself off the tree. “No, I’m better now, I don’t know why I reacted like that.” He took a deep breath and met Dean’s eyes.

Dean nodded slowly, though his brow was furrowed a little. “Well, if you do ever want to—”

Castiel nodded. “I know.” He forced a smile and walked past Dean to the house.

* * *

Castiel could feel Dean’s eyes on him for the rest of the day, and he worried Dean would ask once again what had happened, why Castiel had panicked like he did. But Dean kept quiet and Castiel hoped he could forget about it. 

Bobby returned from town and made supper, and Castiel tried to act normal to assuage Dean’s concern, asking Bobby about town, answering Samuel's questions about being a squire. The residual fear the memory had left behind slowly faded and even Dean seemed to relax.

When they sat at the table with their food, Dean picked up his spoon and Samuel narrowed his eyes at him. “Dean!”

Dean pulled his hands back into his lap. “Well, hurry up, then.”

Samuel clasped his hands in front of him and bent his head. Seeing Dean and Bobby do the same, Castiel hastily followed suit. 

“Lord in Heaven,” Samuel prayed. “We thank you for this food and for this day. Please, tell mother we love her and please let her be happy in Heaven. Amen.”

Everyone began eating and Castiel felt a pang at Samuel’s prayer, the easy way he spoke of his mother. Dean glanced at him from across the table and said, “My mother made me pray before every meal and before I went to bed. I kinda passed it on to Sammy.”

“Dean, what did she tell us every night?” Samuel asked, dipping his bread into his soup.

“You know what she said.”

“I forget.” Samuel grinned at him.

Dean rolled his eyes. “She’d say, ‘angels are watching over you’.”

“Sounds like her way of saying behave or watch out,” Bobby said.

“Sounds right,” Dean laughed.

Castiel watched them and wished he could have a happy memory of his mother without a thousand confusing and scary ones crowding it out, drowning it out. It was easier to not think of her at all. 

Dean smiled at him and Castiel felt a pang of guilt. Dean knew nothing of what Castiel was hiding, thought Castiel’s mother was just like his, that she died normally, of an illness. How could Dean trust him when Castiel had lied to him?

His heart beat faster as he stared down at his stew and thought of what he must do.

* * *

“Well, we should get to bed,” Dean said. 

Castiel roused himself from the tired stupor he'd slipped into. Nodding, he stood. Samuel had convinced Bobby to let him stay up, this being Dean’s last night here, and he now drooped fast asleep in his chair, leaning on Dean’s shoulder. Dean shifted and picked him up.

“He’s growing too old for that,” Bobby said, yawning and standing.

“Yeah, he is,” Dean said, but he carried the sleeping Samuel into the bedroom anyway.

“Well, goodnight, Castiel,” Bobby said, nodding at him. 

“Goodnight.” Castiel went into the storage room and unfolded the blankets they’d pushed aside during the day. Dean walked inside and sat down to pull off his boots.

“We should leave early tomorrow,” he said. Castiel nodded. An uneasiness made him wide awake now. Should he tell Dean? If not now, when would he get the courage again?

He sat down on the blankets and clasped his hands. “Dean.” He didn’t know how he would say it.

“Yeah?” Dean looked up at him. 

Castiel thought he saw a flicker of worry in his eyes. “I want to tell you something, but please don’t be angry. I wanted to tell you before, but I couldn’t—”

“What are you talking about?” Dean threw his boots aside and moved closer to Castiel, now looking fully worried.

Castiel drew in a shaky breath and forced the words out. “My mother didn’t die from an illness. She killed herself.” 

“Oh, Cas.” Dean studied him and Castiel crossed his arms to hide how his hands were trembling. “Is that what you were thinking of earlier?” Dean asked.

Castiel nodded. _Part of it, anyway._ Dean reached out and touched his elbow. “Why did you think I’d be angry?”

Castiel frowned. “I lied to you, I told you she died because she was sick." He tried to explain, "I wanted you to know, but I couldn’t talk about it then, I hate thinking about it—”

“It’s alright, Cas, you don’t have to explain. I understand.” Dean squeezed Castiel’s arm. “Come here.” Moving closer, he put his arms around Castiel and pulled him closer.

Clenching his eyes shut to stop the tears welling up, Castiel let Dean hold him. The dreadful memory rose in his mind—walking outside, the brightness of the sun momentarily blinding him, and then, before him, under the tree, his mother hanging. The same panic that had struck him then gripped his chest now and he opened his eyes, grabbed Dean’s arm around him.

"I'm so sorry, Cas," Dean said, but Castiel could hardly hear him over the voice in his mind.

 _You know why she killed herself,_ it whispered, repeated.

 _Not now, not now,_ he pleaded and forced himself to focus on Dean’s arms around him, to focus on the rise and fall of Dean’s chest. 

Maybe he could pretend the story began and ended with his mother hanging. He could pretend he had loved his mother like Dean and Samuel did, could pretend she loved him. He shut his eyes again. For now, at least, he could push everything else aside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more suspense whoops
> 
> I just had to include Sam in this story—albeit a much younger and shorter version :)
> 
> hope y'all are staying safe out there and having a good week!


	13. The Scar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up, this chapter gets a lil nsfw so if you dont want to see that shit start skimming when dean and cas go for a swim :)

Dean and Castiel said goodbye to Samuel and Bobby early the next morning, when the sun's rays filtered weakly through the trees. Samuel hung around Dean the whole morning, then clung to him when he and Castiel prepared to leave.

“I’ll be back soon to bring you and Bobby to the Forest,” Dean said, hugging Samuel. 

“You promise?” Samuel asked, looking up at Dean.

“Promise." Dean patted his shoulder. "Keep practicing with your bow and I bet you’ll be able to beat Charlie.” 

With a small smile, Samuel nodded and slowly let go of Dean. With a final wave, Dean and Castiel set off. 

Dean was uncharacteristically silent as they walked down the road, back towards the distant Forest. But Castiel wasn’t feeling very talkative himself. He wondered if he should tell Gabriel about his mother’s suicide. Having told Dean, it seemed easier to speak of. It seemed enough to tell only part of the story. The rest, Castiel could bury. The rest, he never needed to speak of again.

“I’m glad you decided to bring Samuel and Bobby to the camp,” he said as they left Locksley.

Dean seemed to rouse himself from his thoughts. “Yeah, I figured it is about time the band meets them. I’d like to see Sammy more anyway.”

“It’s very evident how much he loves you.”

Dean smiled. “I’m glad. I thought for a bit that…” He trailed off.

“Thought what?” Castiel pressed.

“I don’t know, that he might be angry with me after our father died, or might be upset with me for leaving him with Bobby.”

Judging from the way Samuel acted around Dean, Castiel doubted that was the case. “He knows you’re only looking out for him.”

Dean nodded. “I’d do anything for him.” He stared off ahead, the pensive look returning to his eyes. 

Castiel wished he knew what was passing through Dean's mind, but it seemed as if something had passed over Dean’s eyes, a shield that stopped Castiel from seeing into them.

Then Dean’s eyes brightened and the tease of a smile returned that dared Castiel to keep trying to get close. “He’s really good with a bow, right? Soon, he can try to challenge me.”

“You’re very humble,” Castiel remarked.

Dean bumped his arm. “I know you were impressed at that contest in Nottingham, you told me yourself.”

“You do that quite often, don’t you? Enter some town’s archery contest and win the reward?”

Dean flung his arm over Castiel’s shoulders. “And win everyone’s hearts? Yes.” Castiel couldn’t help smile, though he shook his head. 

As the sun dipped in the sky, they reached a tavern where Dean went inside to buy a bag of ale, then they continued down the road, passing it back and forth. As dusk fell, they set up camp a few yards from the road, hidden by a cluster of trees.

After finally sparking a wavering flame in a pile of brush, Dean sat back and threw his flint onto his pack. “Pass me the food,” he said. Castiel ripped in two the half loaf of bread that was the extent of their supplies and handed Dean one of the pieces. “Shit,” Dean said, “This is it? We should’ve bought something at that tavern.”

“I didn’t realize that was all we had left.” Castiel searched through his pack to make sure he didn’t miss anything. “How did you eat everything already? David gave us enough for the whole trip.”

“How did _I_ eat everything?” Dean asked between bites. “You’re blaming me?” Castiel looked pointedly at him as Dean brushed crumbs from his hands, having already finished the piece of bread. “What?” 

Castiel shook his head, amused, and Dean shrugged. “I take no responsibility." He held up the bag of ale. "'Least we have this.” 

* * * 

The stars seemed to flicker the longer Castiel stared at them. The grass was cold through his tunic and, to his left, the fire was a glowing red light in the corner of his eye. “You should put more wood on the fire,” he said. 

Dean pushed himself up onto one elbow from where he lay next to Castiel. He tipped back the bag of ale, then threw it to the side. “All out,” he said. Grabbing a stick, he tossed it towards the fire. A cluster of sparks swirled into the air. “Fuck, I missed.” 

He leaned over Castiel to push the stick further into the flames, his tunic brushing Castiel’s chest. Castiel lifted his hand to touch the fabric and looked up at Dean's profile lit by the warm firelight.

Managing to slightly stoke the fire, Dean pulled back and looked down at him. Castiel's heart fluttered as their eyes met, then Dean leaned down to brush their lips together, and he thought his heart might jump out of his chest. Putting a hand to the back of Dean's neck, he pressed his lips to Dean's, parted his lips to deepen their kiss, taste the ale on Dean's tongue. Shifting, Dean rested his hand on Castiel's ribcage, leaned down further so their chests pressed against each other's.

Castiel's mind felt too muddled to think anything cohesive, yet it spun dizzily with fragments of thoughts and doubts. “This can’t be real,” he said, putting his hand on Dean’s chest and gently pushing him back. “Is this all a jest? You don’t really like me.”

“Of course I do.” Dean caressed his cheek, his eyes searching. “Why do you say that?”

Castiel looked at Dean's collarbone, the curl of his own fingers in the dark fabric of Dean's tunic. “No one’s ever liked me before.”

“I can’t believe that’s the truth.” Dean kissed his cheek and Castiel stared up at the starry sky over his shoulder.

“It is,” he said. Dean pulled back and Castiel felt his eyes on him. “My own mother didn’t like me.”

“Cas, I’m sure she did.” 

Castiel smiled a little. Dean had no idea. He pushed himself to sit, his head feeling too heavy and then too light, and Dean sat back, pulled his hand from Castiel's chest. 

“She hated me," Castiel said matter-of-factly. "She wished I was dead. She wished I had never been born.” He met Dean's eyes and, seeing the concern in them, realized what he was saying. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He tried to laugh. “It doesn’t matter, right? She’s gone now.”

The words made his sick to his stomach as they left his mouth. _This is why she hated you,_ the small voice in his head said.

Dean touched his back and Castiel felt a shiver run down his spine. “Your mother loved you, didn’t she?” he asked, looking at Dean, hating himself and wishing desperately to stop thinking of it all.

“Yes.” Dean's hand was heavy on his back, grounding Castiel, distracting him from the way his chest tightened and his mind crowded with accusing voices. “But I don’t think my father did," Dean continued. "Or maybe he did, I don’t know. I don’t think he loved Samuel. After my mother died…” Shaking his head, he pulled his hand away from Castiel's back and Castiel felt suddenly very cold, very alone. “We hardly saw him. It was like he couldn’t stand looking at Sammy, like Sammy was the reason she died. And when he was around, the way he treated us, I hated him sometimes.” He yanked at the stalks of grass at his feet. “I don’t know what he would think of me now.”

“Wouldn’t he be proud of you? Like Bobby?” This was something he could handle; he could ask questions about Dean’s family, he could focus on the torments filling someone else’s head.

“No. I don’t think so.” Dean threw the handful of grass away and stared at a spot on the ground a few feet in front of him. 

Maybe it was the darkness, the shadows, the effect of the ale, but Castiel felt as if Dean was very far off. The shield was over Dean’s eyes once again and a rush of panic filled Castiel that, if he looked too closely, he would see the same hateful emotion he had seen in his mother’s eyes.

But, when Dean shook his reverie and looked at him, there was only the familiar, playful glint in his eye. “Do you want to know a secret?” he asked. 

Castiel wondered with a twinge of annoyance if it truly was a secret or something Dean had shared with Benny. Dean seemed to read his thoughts because he added, “I’ve never told this to anyone, not even Benny.”

Intrigued, Castiel crossed his legs and shifted to fully face Dean. “What is it?”

“You have to swear you won’t tell anyone.”

“I swear.” Dean gave him a skeptical look. Castiel pressed a hand to his chest. “I swear! What is it?”

Dean laughed a little and looked away, then back at Castiel. “I was once engaged to be married.” 

“What?” 

“It's not what it sounds like. My father, unbeknownst to me, arranged a marriage with a maiden that I had never even seen before and wouldn’t see until the ceremony.” He grinned at Castiel’s look of astonishment. “I know. I could be married with three kids right now.”

“How’d you get out of it?”

Dean’s smile diminished a little. “My father died. And Samuel and I left town and I almost forgot about it, with everything that happened.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The day my father died, that’s when he told me about the arranged marriage. I think he knew I would be upset because the wedding was soon, it was set to take place a week from the day. He’d kept it a secret for months.”

Castiel wondered how Dean's father had died, but asked instead, “Would you have gone through with it?”

“I don’t know. I was so upset when my father told me, I told him I would run away before I married anyone, but who knows if I really would have. I didn’t want to leave Sammy.” He laughed without humor. “It’s kind of ironic, isn’t it? Because then my father died and I had to leave home with Sammy and it wasn’t noble, it wasn’t some adventure, it was the worst time of my life.” He ripped up a tuft of grass. 

Castiel wanted to ask about Dean’s father, why Dean left home, but, remembering the closed off look in Dean’s eyes earlier, he said instead, “That does sound horrible.”

“I guess I got what I deserved.” Dean’s voice was steady, matter-of-fact. “When my father told me about the wedding, I told him I hated him. And then, a few hours later, he died.” He brushed grass off his lap and said quietly, “I was the worst son.”

“No, Dean.” If there was anything Castiel knew, it was this. “You weren’t. You’d take it back if you could.” 

Dean nodded. “Yeah. I would.” He wiped at his eyes hastily. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Castiel watched Dean stare down at his hands, a tear streak down his cheek. The fire snapped and sparks spun upwards. Hesitantly, Castiel reached out and touched Dean’s shoulder, and, turning, Dean grabbed Castiel, buried his head in Castiel’s chest. 

Castiel looked down at Dean holding him. Put his arms around him and pressed his head to Dean’s and held him tighter. The wavering firelight made the grass look like it was rippling and the burning sticks snapped and crumbled and, still, Castiel held Dean, knowing suddenly that he loved him.

* * *

When Castiel woke, he lay for a moment in the warmth of the sun and Dean’s body against his. Opening his eyes, he looked at Dean in the sunlight shining through the leafy cover overhead. Still sleeping, Dean was tucked against his shoulder, one arm lying over Castiel’s stomach, and Castiel touched Dean’s face, lightly traced his ear.

Dean shifted and Castiel hastily pulled his hand away. Opening his eyes, Dean tilted his head to look at him and Castiel saw the smile in his eyes. He reddened, but Dean didn’t say anything, only shifted closer and tightened his grip around Castiel.

“We should get going,” Castiel said, closing his eyes against the sun. He felt Dean nod, but neither of them moved. 

The sun was directly overhead when they forced themselves to rise and start off. Dean shielded his eyes from the glare as they trudged down the road. “You were supposed to stop me from drinking half of that damn bag.”

“I should’ve stopped myself," Castiel said, studying the ground, and bumped into Dean. He glanced up and saw Dean had stopped and was looking behind them.

“Maybe we can get a ride with this man,” Dean said. 

Castiel turned to see a horse-drawn cart approaching, an older man wearing a straw hat holding the reins.

“Excuse me,” Dean called, raising his hand. The man raised his chin slightly to see them under the brim of his hat. “You going towards Sherwood?”

“Yeah." The man tilted his hat up slightly and reined his horse to stop. "‘Round those parts.”

“Mind if we ride along?”

The man studied them, then jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “Get in.” 

Dean flashed a grin at Castiel and threw his pack into the cart. “Dean,” he said, extending his hand to the man. “Thanks a lot.”

“Rufus. Mind the crates back there.” 

Castiel climbed into the cart and sat against a large burlap bag which hay poked out of, stabbing him through his tunic. Dean pushed aside a crate to sit next to him and the cart began to jostle along the road as Rufus urged his horse on.

Castiel remembered sitting in the back of a similar cart, holding his pack close to his chest, as the uncle he had met for the first time that day took him away from his home to live with his equally unfamiliar aunt and cousins. He felt a flash of the fear that had filled him then and shook his head slightly. That was the past, in the category of things he needed to forget. He moved closer to Dean and rested his head on his shoulder.

The cart rumbled down the road in the sun, nearly lulling Castiel to sleep. They stopped once, pulling over to the side of the road, and Rufus turned in his seat and shared his meal with them. He talked about his harvest and the market he was heading towards, keeping up a steady stream of conversation that only halted when he turned back around and they continued on their way.

The sun hovered over the hillsides, washing the fields and forests in a light that made them look like they were ablaze. Castiel felt Dean’s hand against his thigh, his fingers shifting against his leg, and Castiel dropped his hand to his side, slid his fingers in between Dean’s.

The sky was purple when the cart slowed to a stop at the crossing of two roads. Castiel straightened away from Dean and Rufus turned around. “Here’s where I’ll leave you.”

“Thank you very much,” Dean said. They got off the cart and Castiel saw Dean tuck a bag of money in between two crates.

The cart turned to the right and Dean and Castiel walked off the road into the shadowy woods. A slight warm wind pushed Castiel’s hair over his forehead.

“You hear that?” Dean asked. 

Listening, Castiel heard first the creak of the cart driving away. Then he caught the faint sound of rushing water from within the trees.

They kept walking, following the sound, and soon found themselves on the bank of a river. 

“Here’s as good a place as any,” Dean said, and Castiel nodded, setting down his pack and bow. The open air above the river, free of the tree cover, revealed a darkening sky and one star. 

They laid out their blankets and Dean kissed him goodnight as birds settled to rest in the trees. Castiel thought he had never been happier, lying there in Dean’s arms; the deep emotion both thrilled and terrified him in a way that made him beg to whatever, whoever had brought this to pass that it would last. 

_You don’t deserve this_ , something deep inside told him, but he buried it, pressed it deep down and away, and pretended not to hear.

* * *

“We should reach the glade by tonight,” Dean said, rolling up his blanket. Castiel nodded, cold water running down his hand as he stood up from filling their canteen at the river. He tucked the canteen into his pack and Dean shoved his blanket into his own.

Castiel watched as Dean stepped to the river where vivid green grass dotted with tiny yellow flowers turned into grey clay. Setting aside his pack, Castiel went to his side and toed his boot into the clay. He wished they could stay on the road longer, that he could have Dean all to himself for a while more. Water trickled into the dip he created. A twisting, moss-covered tree bent over the river and its crooked branches cast a lane of shadow across the babbling water. 

Dean suddenly pulled off his tunic and Castiel stepped back, startled. “Let’s go for a swim,” Dean said. "We don't have to head back right away." He kicked off his boots and, after a moment, Castiel followed suit. He tried both to avoid looking at Dean stripping down to his undergarments and to not appear to be trying not to look. 

Dean waded into the water and Castiel followed, unsteady over the uneven rocks. He took the hand Dean offered and they made their way into the middle of the river where the water reached their waists. 

Dean ducked under the surface, coming up exclaiming, “It’s freezing!” Wiping the water from his face, he grabbed Castiel's shoulder, tried to duck him in. 

"No!" Castiel protested, trying to get out from under his cold grip. Dean splashed water at him and Castiel ducked, tried to run away out of range of the splashes.

Grabbing Castiel's wrist and pulling him back, Dean wrapped his arms around him from behind and grinned at the mock angry look Castiel shot him. He kissed the side of Castiel's cheek, his face wet against Castiel's, and Castiel didn't know whether he shivered because of the cold or the way Dean was pressed against him.

"Isn't this a nice spot?” Dean asked, still holding onto Castiel and looking around.

"Very nice, and very cold," Castiel said, though the heat of Dean's skin against his was distraction enough.

Dean laughed and started to let go of him. Grabbing Dean's hand, Castiel stopped him and turned to face him. Dean's hand was heavy on his waist and it seemed all at once the most natural action to take Dean's face into his hands and kiss him. He felt Dean's smile against his mouth and then Dean's arms were around him again. He lost himself in the small shifts of Dean’s fingers on his waist, the press of Dean’s lips on his, gasped a little at the trail of open mouthed, lingering kisses Dean pressed to his neck. Hesitantly, he stepped closer so his legs were slotted against Dean's and a shiver ran down his spine as Dean hands trailed to his hips.

"Cas," Dean said, pulling back slightly, "Can we, do you want to—"

Castiel nodded quickly, feeling breathless. "I very much want to," he managed, touching Dean's lips with his thumb, and a smile played at Dean's mouth.

“Come on,” he said, stepping away and taking Castiel’s hand. He led him to the bank and they sunk down on the grass. Dean kissed him again, then pulled him to straddle his lap. Wrapping his arms around Dean's neck, Castiel looked down at him.

"This alright?" Dean asked, his hands on Castiel's waist and Castiel nodded, his heart thudding. 

"Yes," he said and kissed Dean again. He felt Dean's hand trail from his hip to his thigh, his skin burning in its wake, then brush his clothed cock. With a sharp intake of breath, Castiel broke their kiss. Dean pulled his hand away and met Castiel’s eyes, but, before he could speak, Castiel grabbed Dean's hand and pressed it to himself again, biting his lip at the weight of Dean's palm against his hardness.

“No,” he said, “I want you to.”

Dean’s eyes searched his and nodded. "Here, lay back," he said and Castiel slid off his lap. He hesitated a moment, then stripped off his undergarments and Dean did the same, throwing the piece of clothing to the side. Castiel's eyes settled on the dark hair between Dean's thighs, his hard cock, then he realized he was staring and dragged his eyes up to Dean's face.

Dean's eyes were amused and Castiel flushed. "I know what you're thinking," Dean teased, pushing Castiel gently to lay on his back and getting on top of him. "I'm very beautiful."

Castiel's face heated even more, if that was possible. "Will you ever let that go?" He tensed as Dean's cock brushed his and looked up at Dean, his face only inches above his own.

Dean touched his jaw, smiling. "Nope." Castiel relaxed into his touch again as Dean kissed his lips, his neck. His cock was aching when Dean finally brought his hand to it again, and he bit back a groan, his hips jerking up into Dean's touch. Grabbing Dean's face, his hair, he kissed him deeply, wanting to be closer, trying to convey the swirl of emotions filling him.

Dean shifted against him, grinding his own cock against Castiel's hip, and Castiel broke their kiss, breathing heavily.

“Do you want me to touch you?” he asked, eyes grazing over Dean's freckles, his lips, red and parted. Lowering his hand, he touched his fingers to Dean’s hip and Dean nodded, water dripping from his hair.

“Only if you want,” he said. In response, Castiel thumbed over the head of Dean's cock, felt him twitch under his touch as he slicked his hand before palming Dean's length. Dean’s breath hitched with a groan and he pressed his lips to Castiel's again. He stroked Castiel harder, moving against him, and a small sound escaped Castiel’s lips, a sigh and a moan. He rutted his hips against Dean's and pressed his thumb under the head of Dean's cock, eliciting a gasp from Dean.

"Fuck, Cas." Dean kissed him bruisingly, and Castiel felt his pulse thrum under his skin. He let himself sink into the way Dean’s hand on the ground grazed his ear, the way their hands moved with each other, the way Dean reacted to his touch. Dean buried his face in Castiel's neck, nipped his jaw, his wet hair cold against Castiel's heated skin. Castiel felt himself coming close to his edge, his legs trembling, and moaned, quietly, then unable to stop, his desperation rising. 

“Come on, Cas, come on,” Dean murmured, his lips brushing Castiel’s neck, and with a gasp, Castiel came.

He shut his eyes against the weightless feeling in his head and dug his fingers into Dean’s arm as his hips jerked. With a low groan, Dean followed after him, coming into Castiel’s hand, warmth covering Castiel's stomach.

They stroked each other through their aftershocks, then, finishing, Dean lay down on Castiel with a sigh and the weight of his body settled Castiel’s head. He touched Dean’s face and looked up at the blue, cloud-dotted sky, his breathing slowing. A deep warmth settled in his chest, right under where Dean's head rested, an emotion he'd never felt towards anyone else.

After washing themselves in the river, they lay on the bank to dry. Castiel curled against Dean’s side under his arm. He rested his hand on Dean’s damp chest and Dean’s fingers traced patterns on his arm. Castiel smiled, shut his eyes as drowsiness pulled him away. 

When the sun grew too warm, they roused themselves and sat up, began dressing. Dean pulled on his breeches and reached over to touch Castiel's waist. “What’s this from?” he asked. 

A dart of panic shot through Castiel and he reddened, grabbed his tunic. “It’s nothing.”

“That’s a pretty nasty scar.”

He must have known Dean would ask about it sooner or later. He could make something up, lie. “I had an accident when I was a kid.” 

“And I thought you said you didn’t have any exciting stories,” Dean teased. Castiel tried to smile but failed and instead pulled his tunic down over his head.

When he reemerged, Dean was watching him with a curious look on his face. Castiel’s heart thumped. _Play it off,_ he thought, and then, guiltily, _Dean knows I'm lying._ Suddenly, he felt like he couldn’t breathe, the scar etched across his side burned, and the fear of that night—

“Woah, Cas! Hey, are you alright?” Dean grabbed his shoulders and Castiel's chest constricted.

Pushing Dean away, he bent his head down, bile threatening to rise, his breathing shallow, quick. He pressed his hands into the ground, tried to take deep breaths, push away the memory, _don’t think of it, don’t think of it, don't think of it!_

Slowly, the panic released him, and his stomach unclenched, leaving him shaky. Raising his head, unclenching his hands from the dirt, he looked up at Dean. The look in Dean’s eyes, of worry, of hurt, shook him and tears sprung to his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He started crying. 

“It’s alright, Cas.” Dean hesitantly touched his shoulder and Castiel slumped into him, ducked his head on Dean’s chest and cried. Dean wrapped his arms around him. “It’s alright,” he repeated and Castiel clenched his eyes shut, trying to stop the tears. 

He gained control and took a hiccuping breath. Shame filled him, and he stayed still, not wanting to meet Dean’s eyes, not wanting to explain. He couldn’t—panic again gripped his chest at the thought of recalling that night—no, he couldn’t.

Sitting up, he wiped his face on his sleeve. He felt Dean’s eyes on him and only shook his head. “I can’t, I don’t want to talk—” Tears dripped out of his eyes again and he angrily wiped them away. 

“Cas, don’t worry, you don’t have to say anything.” Dean touched Castiel’s face and wiped a tear away with his thumb. “But are you alright?"

Castiel nodded. _I ruin everything._ Shakily pushing himself to his feet, he asked, “Can we leave now?”

Watching him, Dean nodded. Castiel turned away, a mixture of anger at himself and residual fear blearing his eyes and making the trees sway in water. 

_I hate you,_ a voice rang in his mind, one that wasn’t his own or Dean’s, one that he hadn't heard in many years but that made the hair on his body rise all the same. Desperately, he tried to stifle it, but the voice had taken up occupancy in his mind and he knew, with a sinking in his heart, that he would never rid himself of what he wanted to forget.

* * *

Their trip back to the Forest was silent. Castiel didn’t have the energy to speak, to even try and pretend he was alright. Dean took his hand, but he didn’t feel the familiar flutter, only a numb despondence. 

Sometime in the afternoon, they stopped under the shade of a tree to take a break. Dean drank from the canteen and handed it to him. Castiel took it, deliberately not meeting Dean’s eyes. 

He went through the motions of taking a drink, putting the canteen back in his pack, fastening the pack shut, his mind focused only on the immediate action, nothing else. 

“Cas, can you please talk to me?” Dean asked. Castiel slung his pack back onto his shoulder. “You’re worrying me.”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Castiel said, feeling miserable. He stared at the grass, broken and made crooked by their boots.

“Is it because of what we did? You can tell me, I won’t be upset, I promise.”

Castiel shook his head. A wave of guilt washed over him; he was making things worse, he was making Dean feel bad. If only he could explain. “It’s not that,” he said, forcing himself to meet Dean’s eyes, allowing himself for a moment to sink into the comfort they promised. He could be perfectly happy with Dean if only he wasn’t damaged. Even being with Dean couldn’t change that. “It wasn’t that at all.”

“Then what?” Castiel didn’t answer and Dean sighed. “I want to help, Cas—”

“Then stop asking me about it.” The clipped harshness of his words was satisfying, a release for the anger simmering inside him. Then he saw the hurt look on Dean’s face and felt worse than before.

Dean ducked his head, crossed his arms. _I don’t hate you_ , Castiel thought, pleaded. Finally, Dean nodded. “Alright.” He looked at Castiel. “I’ll stop asking you about it, but promise me you’ll tell me, when you’re ready?” 

Castiel didn’t think he’d ever be ready. “I don’t suppose you could just forget about it?”

Dean smiled a little but it didn’t reach his eyes. He turned back to the road. “Let’s keep going.”

* * *

They reached Laxton, the town on the outskirts of the Forest, as their shadows grew long and the sky turned a shade of purple. Dean talked about him and Samuel as kids and Castiel smiled at the right moments. He knew Dean was only trying to amuse him and, even if he didn’t feel at all inclined to smile, at least he could pretend.

Dean stopped outside the tavern as they crossed through the town. “I’ll go buy some food,” he said. “I don’t think we’re going to get to camp by nightfall.” 

Castiel nodded. He watched Dean go inside and looked up at the sky, the shaded ridges of the clouds. Laughter from the tavern drew his attention and he looked at the empty carts and horses tied outside. One of the horses caught his eye. The emblem on its harness... He stepped forward to see better in the low light and someone grabbed him from behind. 

A hand clamped over his mouth before he could yell in surprise, and, struggling, he was dragged backwards behind the tavern. Whoever had grabbed him shoved him onto the ground and he landed hard on his hands and knees. Quickly, he turned over and looked up at his attacker.

Sir Ishim. 

“Don’t move,” he said as Castiel started to rise, looking around for an escape. “Hand over your bow and arrow.” Slowly, knowing he was trapped, Castiel slid his bow and quiver from his shoulder and set them on the ground. 

Behind Sir Ishim, Sir Gerald appeared, smirking. “The runaway squire,” he said. He looked at someone behind him. “You’ll get part of the reward for pointing him out.” Castiel craned to see and saw Zachariah standing behind the knights. Their eyes met and Zachariah smirked.

Zachariah betrayed him, Castiel realized. He looked at the knights, his heart pounding. How could he have been so stupid? He should’ve known the knights would pass through Laxton again, should’ve never let his guard down.

_Dean_ , he thought, desperately. Dean had to get away; he had to be warned.

“Who are you traveling with?” Sir Ishim asked him, kicking his bow and arrow aside. 

“Nobody,” Castiel answered quickly. _Fuck, no, no, no,_ he thought. They had already seen Dean, they wouldn't let him escape.

“Is he from the Hood’s band?” 

“The Hood? No, no,” Castiel stammered. 

Sir Ishim looked back at Sir Gerald. “Grab the boy when he comes out.” 

“No, please, he has nothing to do with this,” Castiel begged as Sir Gerald walked back to the tavern entrance, motioning for Zachariah to follow him.

“We’ll see about that,” Sir Ishim said. He studied Castiel and shook his head. “This is quite a welcome surprise, finding the squire who joined the Hood.”

“I haven’t joined—”

Sir Ishim scoffed. “Don’t play stupid. We heard plenty from the squires of your sympathetic views of the Hood. I would’ve thought someone employed by the Sheriff would know better than to be brainwashed into such idiocy, but I guess I was wrong.”

Castiel heard the door to the tavern open, the laughter and voices inside amplified for a moment, then sounds of struggle. He started to rise and Sir Ishim gave him a warning glance. He sunk back down and stayed still, clenching his fists. _Please get away,_ he pleaded, hoped. 

Then Sir Gerald and Zachariah came around the tavern, pulling a disheveled Dean along between them, and Castiel’s heart sunk. The knights had captured the Hood, at last, and all because of him.


	14. Part 4: On the Run

_I’m so sorry_ , Castiel thought as he watched Sir Gerald and Zachariah yank Dean over around the side of the tavern. Dean glanced at him and Castiel saw realization strike him as he put two and two together. 

“You have no right,” Dean said, trying to pull his arm away from Sir Gerald’s grip. He glared at Sir Ishim. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”

“You’re a suspected member of the Hood’s band,” Sir Ishim said cooly. He grabbed Castiel’s arm and looked at Sir Gerald. “We don’t want any spectators. Let's take them to the inn and question them there.”

Dragging Castiel up to his feet, Sir Ishim led him from the tavern. Glancing back, Castiel saw Zachariah scramble to grab their bows and packs. Sir Gerald pulled Dean along after them, warning, “I wouldn’t try to fight, if I were you."

Crossing the street to the inn, the knights led Castiel and Dean into the stable. “Tie them up,” Sir Ishim instructed Zachariah, and Zachariah grabbed a length of rope from one of the empty stalls. 

"Happy to see me?" he asked, jerking Castiel’s arms behind his back.

"Fucking shut up," Dean snarled and Zachariah laughed low. He lashed Castiel's wrists together tightly, all too eager to be a part of his capture. Dean swore at Zachariah when he roughly tied him up, and Castiel stared at the ground, avoiding Dean's eyes. This was all his fault; he'd let his guard down and now they were going to pay for it.

They ended up kneeling on the ground with their hands tied behind their backs. Looking up at Sir Ishim, Castiel saw the cruel glint in his eyes as he stepped forward, attention on Dean. “Now, I know who Castiel is, but who are you?” he questioned.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Dean asked. Sir Gerald struck him across the face, Dean's head snapping to the side, and Castiel flinched. 

“Name. _Now_ ,” Sir Gerald spat.

Blood trickled from Dean’s nose and he seemed to weigh his options. “Dean of Locksley.”

“And you’re a part of the Hood’s band?”

“I’m guessing it won’t make any difference if I say no.”

Sir Gerald laughed cruelly. “Smart lad.”

“Now,” Sir Ishim said, turning to Castiel. “We can take you to Nottingham and have you hung, or you can help us and beg mercy from the Sheriff.” He crouched down and Castiel tensed. “Let’s start with… where do the Hood and his band reside?”

“We’re not going to tell you anything,” Dean said and Castiel winced, watching as Sir Ishim's eyes shot to Dean.

“I don't like your tone,” he said. He nodded at Sir Gerald and the knight swiftly kicked Dean in the side. With a grunt, Dean doubled over, and Sir Gerald grabbed his collar, pulled him back up on his knees.

Quickly, Castiel spoke up, “Our camp's in Sherwood Forest."

Sir Ishim looked at him. “Ah, so you _have_ joined the Hood. You and the other fugitive squire?” Castiel nodded. “How many are in the band?”

Castiel hesitated and Dean spoke up, “There’s thirty of us.”

Sir Ishim sighed and stood up straight. “Tell us the truth,” he said. “We know the Hood hasn’t such a following.”

"You don't know anything about us—" Dean started, but his words were cut off by a punch to the head. He recoiled, spitting blood, and Castiel blurted, 

“There’s only ten of us!" He looked up at the knights, hoping they would accept the number. Sir Ishim nodded and he breathed a sigh of relief. Dean swore under his breath, and Castiel feared Dean was angry at him. But what else was there to do? The knights would have no qualms about killing them if they didn't give them enough information.

“The Hood,” Sir Gerald said. “Who is he?” Castiel glanced at Zachariah, who was watching the proceedings with a callous smile on his face. Sir Gerald took a step closer. “I said, who is the Hood?”

“Go to hell,” Dean growled. Sir Gerald started towards him. 

“Please! Don’t hurt him!” Castiel exclaimed, and Sir Gerald turned on him. Castiel shrank back under the rage filling his eyes.

“You want to tell us about the Hood?” Sir Ishim asked him. Castiel looked at Dean and Dean shook his head slightly.

Sighing, Sir Ishim turned and said something Castiel couldn’t hear to Zachariah. Zachariah laughed and nodded, then left the barn.

“We’ll make you talk, regardless,” Sir Ishim said, turning back to them. “You decide how you want this to go.”

Castiel glanced at Dean and their eyes met for a brief second. Dean didn't look nearly as fearful as he should be, as Castiel was. If only Castiel could muster up that kind of bravery, but his heart was pounding nearly too loud to think straight.

Zachariah returned holding a fire poker, its tip glowing red. Sir Ishim took it, smiling at Castiel’s evident fear. He waved the poker around. “Now. I want information about the Hood.” 

He stepped towards Castiel and pointed the poker at him. Heat radiated off of it and Castiel drew back, the searing point burning in his eyes. What could he say? He could lie, say the Hood was away, say he didn't know the Hood's real name.

Before he could make up his mind, Sir Ishim pierced his shoulder with the poker. A sharp pain jolted through Castiel, flashes of red sparking in his vision. He thought he heard himself yell, but the pain drowned out his voice in his head.

“Stop it!” Dean yelled and Sir Ishim pulled the poker away. Castiel gasped for air. “I’m the Hood. It's me."

“No, Dean, don’t,” Castiel begged, the sharp pain in his shoulder slowly receding to a dull burn. He looked at Dean, pleading with his eyes for Dean to not give himself up.

But Dean looked up at Sir Gerald and Sir Ishim, his eyes fierce. “You want the Hood?” he asked. “Here I am.”

“You?” Sir Ishim looked at Castiel. “Is that true?” Castiel hesitated and Sir Ishim jabbed the poker towards him. 

“Yes!” Castiel said, flinching. “He is! He’s the Hood.” His shoulder still felt like it was on fire and he could smell the acrid scent of where the poker had burned through his tunic. 

Sir Gerald grabbed Dean’s hair and tilted his head back. “So, _you’re_ the Hood." Dean glared up at him and Sir Gerald shoved him backwards. With a thud, Dean landed heavily on his side and Sir Gerald kicked him in the stomach with the toe of his boot.

“Stop, please!” Castiel entreated as Dean groaned, Sir Gerald towering over him.

Sir Ishim turned to him, the end of the poker still glowing. “Where is the rest of the band?”

Castiel looked up at him. “At our camp, in the Forest.”

“Who in this town has been helping you?”

“No one has,” Dean answered, pushing himself up onto his elbow. Sir Gerald kicked him again and he fell back with a grunt. “No one! I swear!” he added, curling up to shield himself from another kick Sir Gerald aimed at him.

“Castiel?” Sir Ishim looked at him and Castiel stared at the poker, at him, at Dean. Sir Ishim thrust the poker into Dean’s arm and Dean cried out in pain. 

“The innkeeper!” Castiel cried. Sir Ishim pulled the poker away, looking at him. Castiel quavered, but with a glance at Dean, he continued, “It’s the innkeeper. She’s allies with our band.” 

“Cas, no.” Dean dropped his head back on the ground, and Castiel looked between him and Sir Ishim, desperately hoping he had said enough to stop the torture. 

Sir Ishim tapped the end of the poker into the dirt. “I knew you two could cooperate.” Castiel hung his head. “You’ll take us to your camp at first light,” Sir Ishim continued and Castiel heard the sinister smile in his voice. “And then it’s the gallows for all you vile knaves.” 

* * *

Sir Gerald tied them to a wooden support post, back to back, and retired to the other end of the barn. Zachariah brought him and Sir Ishim food from the inn and the knights sat, eating and drinking. 

“We’ll grab that innkeeper tomorrow,” Sir Gerald said, speaking of Widow Ellen, “and spread the message that we have the Hood.” He and Sir Ishim laughed and Castiel pulled against the rope digging into his wrists. His shoulder ached, the strain on his arms stretching the burn wound. Dean shifted, his arms brushing Castiel’s and Castiel leaned his head back on the post. 

“I’m sorry, Dean,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” Dean said, sounding weary. 

Castiel watched the knights make a toast to the Sheriff. “What are we going to do?”

Dean was quiet for a moment. “We’ll get out of this,” he finally said. “We’ll fight.”

* * *

The only light in the barn came from a lantern hanging on the wall above the knights’ heads. Noise of travelers outside diminished and Castiel’s arms cramped. The knights talked lazily, then grew silent. Zachariah sat apart from them, twisting a stalk of hay around his finger and staring at Castiel. 

Dean was silent, still, and a sudden rush of anger overwhelmed Castiel. Clenching his jaw, he dug his heels into the barn floor. Dean was hurt because of him, the band would be captured because of him, Widow Ellen and Jo would be caught because of him. He had to do something. His eyes scanned the barn, he strained against the ropes restricting him. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Zachariah smirk in amusement. There was nothing to do. He was trapped.

The lantern's light wavered on the barn walls. Zachariah's head hung down in sleep and Sir Gerald stood, paced as if to stay awake. Castiel's own eyelids grew heavy and he sunk in between consciousness and sleep.

_He wakes to crying. Lying in bed, he listens to his mother sob and doesn’t understand why. Sliding out of bed, he walks across the small room to his mother’s bed, holding a hand out to feel his way in the dark. When he stops at her side, she turns to look at him._

_“I hate you.” In the faint light, he can see her cold stare, the tears running down her face. Her hand shoots out from under the quilt and grips his arm. “Why are you here? You ruined everything.”_

_Castiel tries to pull away, but she won’t let go. “I hate you,” she whispers._

Castiel’s eyes snapped open and he thought for a moment the sounds of cursing and struggling were his own twisted dreams. Then in the low light he saw Little John wrestling Sir Gerald to the ground. 

He woke fully in an instant. Charlie was holding a cudgel, standing off against Sir Ishim, who had drawn his sword. Benny was running to him and Dean. “We’re getting you out of here,” he said, cutting the bonds lashing their wrists. Castiel pulled his arms free and pushed himself to his feet. 

“Go!” Benny shoved him to the barn doors and he ran. Then he hit the ground as someone tackled him. 

Struggling, he rolled over, and Zachariah tried to pin him down. Castiel kicked at him, kneeing him in the groin. Swearing, Zachariah grabbed Castiel’s shoulder and dug his thumb into his burn wound. The pain set Castiel’s head spinning and he lost his grip, black tearing at the edges of his vision.

Then the weight of Zachariah on top of him disappeared. Castiel blinked at the wooden beams of the barn's ceiling as his vision cleared. The ground tipping dizzily, he sat up and saw Dean grappling with Zachariah. A blade’s edge caught the light as Zachariah slashed it and Dean moved his head just in time to avoid the dagger. 

Lunging forward, Castiel grabbed at Zachariah’s leg and caught a kick to the side of his head. He fell back, shook his head against the dizziness, and threw himself onto Zachariah again, kept his hold. Zachariah struggled under him, then Castiel heard a low, wet, thud and Zachariah gasped. His thrashing lost its viciousness, became sporadic spurts, and Castiel looked up, saw Dean stumbling to his feet. 

“Fuck, fuck, no,” Dean whispered and dropped the dagger, his hands dark red. Zachariah stilled under Castiel and Castiel let go, pushed himself to his feet, eyes drawn to the dark, bloody tear across Zachariah's abdomen. 

Little John grabbed his shoulders. “Let’s go! We need to go!” He pushed him to the barn doors and Castiel stumbled. Dean hadn't moved, blood dripping from his hands.

"Dean!" Castiel called, then grabbed Dean's wrist and tugged him away from Zachariah's body. Benny stood in the doorway to the barn with his bow raised. An arrow whistled past Castiel and he looked over his shoulder to see Sir Gerald fall to his knees with an arrow in his gut.

Castiel ran out of the barn, still holding onto Dean. The first hints of sunlight lit everything in a shade of grey. A shadowed figure drawing water from the well behind the inn shrieked and fled. Castiel hesitated, his mind spinning, then Charlie ran past him. “Into the woods, quick!” she called. 

"Come on, Dean!" Castiel said, starting to follow Charlie. In the low light, Dean's face was ashen and he stared back at the barn. Castiel shook him by the shoulders, realized both their clothes was stained with Zachariah's blood. "Come on!" There was no time to think about what had just happened.

Dean blinked, then his eyes focused on Castiel's face and he nodded. Taking Dean's hand, Castiel ran into the woods after Charlie. Branches snapped at his face, and roots and stones on the dark ground nearly caused him to trip. He ran, unaware of anything else but the need to get away, to flee.

The woods grew thicker and he lost track of how long they had been running. Sunlight filtered through the trees, exposing the terrain, and Charlie, ahead of them all, slowed. Castiel caught up to her as she came to a stop. “Are they... after us?” she panted.

“We got away,” Little John said, skidding to a stop. He put a hand on a tree, leaning against it.

Unable to stand anymore, Castiel dropped to the ground and gasped for air. Realizing he had let go of Dean's hand, he looked around frantically. In the low light, he saw Dean sink to the ground a few feet away, his chest heaving.

“Dean,” Benny said, and touched his shoulder. Dean mumbled something Castiel couldn’t hear and Benny said, “Don’t start with that.”

Dean rose unsteadily. “I killed him,” he said, clearly now, distress in his voice. 

“You had to.” Dean tried to walk away and Benny grabbed his arm.

Dean turned on him and shoved him. “Stop it! I killed him, I—” He bent over abruptly and was sick. 

Castiel looked away, tears stinging his eyes. The memory of Zachariah clutching his stomach, soaked in red, made his own stomach seize and he took a shaky breath.

Benny looked at them. “Those bastards deserved it,” he said. “You saw, I killed one of them too—”

“Be quiet!” Charlie snapped. With a nervous glance at Dean, she looked down at Castiel. “Are you alright?”

Staring down at the grass, Castiel nodded. He heard Dean stop retching and glanced up to see him sit on the ground and lean his head against a tree. Benny seemed tempted to speak, but he kept silent and walked away.

Charlie sat down next to Castiel. “We were lucky to find you,” she said. ”Jo saw the knights grab you and Dean and ran to get help. Thank goodness we were returning from a trip and ran into her on the road.”

At the mention of Jo, Castiel looked up, panicked. “Jo and Widow Ellen aren’t safe. The knights, are they both dead?”

Little John shook his head. "One's alive—" he started, but Benny interrupted,

“Why? What happened?”

Castiel hesitated and Benny’s eyes narrowed. Before Castiel could react, he strode to him and pulled him up off the ground. “What did you tell them?” he demanded, gripping Castiel's tunic.

“Benny, stop it!” Dean yelled. 

Castiel tried to break Benny’s grip on his tunic, stop his collar from digging into his neck. "I'm sorry, I swear—"

“Get off him!” Little John bellowed, grabbing Benny and dragging him back. 

Shaking him loose, Benny shoved Castiel back against the tree. “What did you do?” he yelled.

“Stop it!” Charlie forced herself in between them. “Now!”

Little John pulled Benny away again and Castiel tried to catch his breath. Benny pointed at him. “The knights recognized you, didn’t they? That’s why they captured Dean!” He fought against Little John, swearing, and Castiel saw Dean rise to his feet. 

“Castiel, what happened?” Charlie asked.

The truth was going to come out sooner or later. “I told the knights Widow Ellen helped us.” Benny cursed at him and Castiel turned on him, “They were hurting Dean! I had to tell them something!”

“What else?” Little John asked, still holding Benny back.

“I told them I was the Hood," Dean spoke up.

Everyone turned to look at him. He crossed his arms and Castiel thought he was shaking.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Benny yelled at him. He pulled away from Little John. “Are you fucking crazy?”

“I had to,” Dean said quietly. 

Benny put his hands on his head, turned away. “I can’t fucking believe it.”

Castiel felt sick to his stomach. “It’s my fault. Benny’s right, the knights recognized me.”

“Cas, stop,” Dean said wearily. 

“It’s true! I should’ve known, I should’ve been more careful.” He held Dean's gaze, daring him to contradict him. Dean broke eye contact.

“We'll talk about this later. For now, we need to get back to camp." He started to say something else, then walked off without another word, his mouth shut in a tight line. With glances at Castiel, Charlie and Little John followed him.

Benny glared at him and Castiel met his eyes. _Hate me all you want_ , he thought. _I deserve it._

* * *

The day was a pale, watered down version of itself when Castiel, Dean, and the others reached camp. Castiel was nearly asleep on his feet and he dreaded having to tell the rest of the band what had happened. He wanted to curl up in his tent and sleep for days until everything that had happened faded away.

Anna and David sat outside making a fire when Castiel and the others walked into the glade. “Hey!” Anna called, grinning. Then her smile disappeared and she rose to her feet. “What the hell happened to you guys?”

Castiel looked at their group, saw the dirt streaked across Little John’s tunic, the bruise under Dean’s eye, the rips in his own clothing.

“Get everyone over here,” Dean said. “We need to talk.”

When the rest of the band had been roused and gathered to the fire, Dean recounted their capture and escape. Castiel sat with his knees drawn up. He stared at the fire, wanting to avoid the eyes he knew would be on him.

“One of the knights is still alive, right, Little John?” Dean asked and Little John nodded. “Then he's going to tell the Sheriff about our camp and my identity, and Widow Ellen.” He’d conveniently left out who told the knights what, Castiel thought. He glanced at Benny, fearful he would speak up, but Benny only glowered at the fire.

“Which knights were they?” Gabriel asked Castiel, and Castiel roused himself from his thoughts.

“Sir Ishim and Gerald. Zachariah was there too, he ratted me out.”

“That mother fucking—” Gabriel cut himself off in his anger. “I knew he was fucking evil! I always knew it!”

“Well, he’s dead now," Castiel said. "Sir Gerald too.” He said it tonelessly because he couldn’t feel any other way about it. Gabriel looked at him, but Castiel kept staring at the fire.

“What are we going to do?” Allan asked. “They’re going to come for us.”

“They only know we have a camp in the Forest, not where,” Dean said. “The Forest is big enough to make their search difficult.”

Anna spoke up from where she sat holding onto Charlie’s arm, “We have to help Widow Ellen and Jo.” 

Dean nodded. “Will, David, you two go into town and find out what’s going on."

"I'll go too—" Benny started, but Dean shook his head. 

"No, it's too risky. The knights won’t recognize Will and David. They can help Widow Ellen and Jo escape before more knights come and capture them.”

“But what about us?” Allan asked. “The knights are going to come after us as soon as they’re able. Maybe if we give ourselves up, they’ll take mercy.”

“Are you insane?” Gabriel asked. “They’ll hang you the first moment they can.”

“You really want to bail on us now?” Little John glared at Allan. 

Allan started to protest and Dean cut in, “There’s nothing we can do right now other than help Widow Ellen and learn what’s going on in town. Alright?” Allan shook his head, but stayed silent.

Rising, Will and David went to grab their bows and quivers, and Gabriel turned to Castiel. “Are you alright? What did the knights do to you?”

“I’m fine.” Castiel stood before Gabriel could ask anything else. Across the fire, he saw Charlie put a hand on Dean’s arm.

"Dean, you alright?" she asked. Dean glanced up at her from staring into the fire and nodded.

Looking away, Castiel headed to his and Gabriel’s tent. He heard Dean call after him, “Cas, where are you going?” and considered ignoring him, continuing to walk away.

He turned. “To sleep.”

“Get some rest, all of you,” Anna said, coming up to Charlie and hugging her from behind. “You look like you’re half-dead on your feet.” Grabbing Charlie’s hand, she led her away.

Dean still sat there, looking at Castiel, but Castiel didn't know what Dean wanted from him, so he walked away. 

The tent he and Gabriel shared was all too inviting, but Castiel hesitated all the same before going inside. He looked back and saw Dean going into his tent. Benny, Little John, Charlie, and Anna had disappeared into theirs. Gabriel was at the oak tree, grabbing food from their stock, and Allan was sitting at the fire alone. 

The glade still seemed so idyllic, but what would happen when the knights came for them? Castiel looked at the trees bordering the glade, the morning chill raising the hair on his arms. The knights might already be on their way.

Turning, without much thought, he went to Dean. It was selfish of him, he knew, to expect any comfort after the mess he'd gotten them into, but he was tired. Tired enough to push aside the guilt and give in.

The tent flap was still open and Dean looked up when he approached. Without a word, he moved aside to make room for Castiel. 

They lay in each others’ arms and Castiel’s shoulder ached, but he didn’t want to move, didn’t want Dean to draw his arms away from him. Closing his eyes, he let himself pretend they were far away from here, sleeping under the stars in soft grass. 

“I know that squire was your cousin,” Dean said, shattering his fantasy. “I’m sorry.”

Castiel opened his eyes, saw Dean's searching his face. Remembering Dean’s reaction to killing Zachariah, he said, “You didn’t mean to kill him.” He heard, felt under his hand, Dean’s heart thumping faster. 

“I never want to kill anyone, I hate it—” Dean broke off and Castiel nodded, felt sick to his stomach for being the reason behind Dean’s hurting.

Dean’s finger gently traced his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Cas, what those bastards did to you.”

“Please, don’t apologize." He couldn’t bear to hear Dean act as if it was all his own fault. 

“Cas, I don’t blame you—”

“I know.” _You should._

Dean moved his fingers through Castiel’s hair and Castiel closed his eyes again. He told himself, selfishly, that he would deal with everything later, that he could have this moment now, to pretend everything was fine, that he was fine. 

“I love you, Cas,” he heard Dean say softly, and though his heart jumped, he stayed perfectly still to not betray the way his mind raced. 

Opening his eyes, he said, very quietly, so that he could barely hear himself, “Sometimes I think I’m cursed.”

“What?” Dean asked, confusion written across his face.

He was thinking of his mother’s eyes, changed so suddenly from affection to hatred. “Nothing.” 

Shifting, he touched Dean’s cheek and kissed him. Dean's hand shifted to his face and Castiel closed his eyes, sunk into his touch. When he lay back in Dean’s arms, he remained silent because he didn’t know how to explain that he loved Dean too, but that he didn’t deserve him.


	15. Betrayal

“Dean!” 

Castiel opened his eyes to warm sunlight and a commotion outside. Slowly shifting, his shoulder aching, he saw a shadow outside the tent. Dean stirred, pulling his arm from around Castiel, and leaned over him to push open the tent flap. Castiel looked up to see Charlie standing outside. 

“Dean! I think—” Castiel reddened as Charlie's eyes fell to him. He sat up and Charlie continued, “Sorry to wake you, but Allan’s gone.”

“What?" Dean rubbed at his eyes. "Where’d he go?” 

“I don’t know, I was asleep—I think most of us were—and Gabriel woke us up a moment ago, saying he couldn’t find him—”

“All the money’s gone.” Anna appeared at Charlie’s shoulder. “I just checked the tree, it’s all gone.” 

“No.” Charlie's eyes widened. “You don’t think—” 

Dean sat back and swore under his breath. Castiel looked between him and Charlie and Anna. "You think he'd steal from us?" he asked.

“You saw him earlier,” Anna said. “He was scared shitless.”

“That bastard!” Charlie said fiercely. “We’ll go after him.”

“Wait!” Dean said as Charlie and Anna started to walk away. They looked back. “If you find him, take the money, but let him go. Actually, leave him with a portion of the money so he can get to wherever he's headed. We’re not going to force anyone to stay here if they don’t want to.”

“Fine,” Charlie said, though she didn’t seem too happy with Dean's instructions. “But I’m going to give him a piece of my mind, that coward.”

She and Anna hurried off, and Dean ran his hand through his hair and pushed back the blankets. “Fuck.”

“I can’t believe he left.” Castiel closed the tent flap.

“I should’ve expected it," Dean said. "To be honest, he’s never been the bravest in danger, and this is the closest call we’ve had yet. How’s your shoulder?” 

Castiel had winced as he pulled the tent flap closed and now he looked down at his wound. “I’m fine.”

“Let me see.”

“No.”

“Cas, let me see.” Dean reached for Castiel’s arm. 

Castiel huffed, but he let Dean pull aside the collar of his tunic, wincing as it pulled at the dried blood around his wound. 

Dean sucked in his breath. “It doesn’t look great, that’s for sure.”

“It doesn’t feel great, either.” Castiel watched him, remembering what Dean had said before they fell asleep. Had Dean really meant it, that he loved him?

The tent flap whipped aside and they both startled. “Holy fuck—” Dean started.

“Charlie just told me about Allan,” Benny said, standing at the tent's opening. “I’m going to kill him.”

Dean sighed and went outside. “No one is killing anyone. If he wants to leave, he can leave.”

Castiel sat and listened to them argue for a minute. Judging by the shadows outside, it was late afternoon. Despite sleeping, he still felt bone weary.

Leaving the tent, he walked past Dean and Benny. Benny started to speak to him, but Dean cut him off. Castiel ignored the both of them and grabbed a rag and a clean tunic from his tent, then left the glade for the river. 

“Cas, hold up!”

Glancing behind him, he saw Gabriel running over. "It's crazy about Allan, right?" Gabriel asked, reaching his side. "He took all the money we had left."

Castiel nodded, though in truth it didn't seem much a surprise. His and Dean's capture was still heavy on his mind—the shock of it all, and now the repercussions. That Allan had left, stolen from them—it was only one more consequence of his mistake, of letting his guard down.

Gabriel glanced at him and Castiel's desolation must've shown on his face because he asked, “Are you upset about Zachariah?”

“No.” He wasn’t, truly. After leaving the castle, he’d thought he’d never see Zachariah again. Now, he knew he wouldn’t. It was simple—or would be if he didn’t think of his aunt learning of the news, if he didn’t recall the way Zachariah had stilled under him, blood dampening his tunic.

“Did... did you kill him?”

“No. It was the others.” He couldn’t tell Gabriel that Dean had killed Zachariah, not with the way he knew Dean felt about it. “But I... I helped." His stomach turned at the memory, and maybe he had lied, maybe he did regret Zachariah's death after all. "I was the one holding him down when he got stabbed.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, Cas. He helped the knights capture you. And he’s been asking for it for a long time.”

Castiel nodded, though Gabriel's words did little to ease his guilt. They reached the river and Castiel painfully pulled off his tunic. Gabriel grimaced seeing the wound on his shoulder. “What’s that from?”

“A fire poker.” Castiel knelt to dip the rag in the water.

“The knights did that?”

“Sir Ishim, specifically.” He looked down at his wound and tried to wipe around it.

“Here, let me help.” Gabriel took the rag from Castiel and dabbed at the burn mark, the rag staining red. 

Castiel flinched. “Ow.” Staring at his hands, he dug his nails into his palms. Something else lay heavy on his conscience, and it didn't seem right to keep it a secret. He hadn't deserved the way Dean kept the truth from the rest of the band. “I’m the one who told the knights about Widow Ellen.”

Gabriel only gave him a quick glance before focusing on his wound again. “I would’ve cracked too. Look what they did to you.” _Dean wouldn’t have_ , Castiel thought.

Rinsing the rag in the river, Gabriel remarked, “I hope David returns from town soon. Last thing we need is the knights capturing him. Or Will," he added. Squeezing excess water from the rag, he frowned at the water.

“Wait.” Something in Gabriel’s eyes struck Castiel. “You and David?” 

“What?” Gabriel glanced at him. “No! I mean, I don’t know. Maybe. We went hunting together while you and Dean were gone—it doesn’t matter.” He stood and tossed the rag at Castiel. “Stop looking at me like that.” 

Castiel smiled a little, despite everything. Then he remembered why David was in town in the first place.

Standing he pulled on his tunic. “I’m sure Will and David will be fine,” he offered as they headed back to the glade, though he wasn’t so sure himself. Gabriel nodded and Castiel knew David had to be alright, Widow Ellen and Jo too. Everyone had to be alright because he didn’t know how he’d ever forgive himself otherwise.

* * * 

Charlie and Anna returned later that night empty-handed. Allan had been nowhere to be found and they had turned back before going into Laxton. A traveler they'd passed told them there were several knights in town interrogating anyone who passed through. They’d have to wait to learn about Widow Ellen until Will and David returned.

Everyone slowly congregated at the fire, no one wanting to sleep, everyone silently hoping Will and David would emerge from the woods. The fire crackled and, once in a while, someone would turn at a noise in the forest, but, still, there was no sign of Will and David.

“I should go after them,” Dean muttered from where he sat at Castiel's side.

“The knights know what you look like,” Castiel said. He watched Gabriel pacing along the border of firelight and shadow.

“That one knight knows what I look like. What’s he going to tell the others? 'The Hood has brown hair and green eyes'? There’s a hundred other people who could meet that description.” 

“It’s still not safe.” 

Dean glanced at him, then huffed, getting up to grab another log to put on the fire. 

“If they don’t get back by morning, we’ll go after them,” Benny spoke up. Castiel stared at him stonily, then looked up at the stars. No one else said anything. Dean threw a log into the fire and sat back down next to him.

The crack of a branch drew Castiel’s attention, but he kept staring at the sky, not wanting to get his hopes up. Then he heard Gabriel stop pacing and Anna let out a sigh of relief. Turning, he saw Will and David walking into the glade and a tension he hadn't realized was tightening his chest released.

Dean jumped to his feet. “You made it! What’s going on out there? How are Widow Ellen and Jo?”

Castiel searched Will and David’s faces as they stepped into the firelight. David looked tired. “They’re alright," he reassured Dean. "We warned them before any more knights arrived and they got away. They’re in Blidworth now, with a friend.” 

Will rubbed his hands over the fire. “That worker at the alehouse, Ash, said that he’d come to the Forest tomorrow with more news.” 

“The knights are going to start searching the Forest, though,” David added, sitting down by the fire. “They’ve brought in foot soldiers and everything.” Gabriel sat next to him and David looked over at him, smiling faintly. 

“Let them try to find us,” Benny said.

Will looked around the fire. “Where’s Allan?”

Little John started explaining and Dean sat down next to Castiel again. “I’m sure this whole thing will blow over soon,” he said. Castiel looked at him, wondering if he truly believed what he was saying. “The knights will get tired of searching for us before too long and they’ll give up.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Dean nudged him with his elbow. “Widow Ellen and Jo are fine. Everything’s going to be alright.” He gave him a small smile and Castiel nodded, tried to return the smile. He wanted so badly to believe it. 

* * *

After only a few hours of sleep, Dean woke Castiel. The morning was still dewy and brisk as they left the glade for a spot along the main road where Dean said Ash would show up, him having come by to share news from Laxton before. 

The early sunlight filtered through the trees and clusters of tiny white flowers bent under the weight of their heads. Dean hadn’t spoken much that morning besides asking Castiel to come with him to meet Ash, and he looked preoccupied now, silently walking at Castiel’s side. 

Castiel wondered if Dean was upset with him. He’d slept in Dean’s tent again last night, and when Dean had kissed him goodnight, Castiel had moved closer, kissed him back, a rush of relief making him hope perhaps everything hadn't been ruined between them. Then Dean had slid his hand up Castiel’s waist and his fingers moved over the ridged scar on Castiel's side, and maybe Castiel had drawn back, maybe he'd only tensed, but, suddenly, there was something unspoken in the air and Castiel felt defeated.

“Cas,” Dean had said quietly, and Castiel had shut his eyes, knowing what he was going to say. “I know you don’t want me asking about it, you keep saying you’re fine, but I know there’s something you’re not telling me—”

“It doesn’t matter," Castiel had said, opening his eyes and looking at the tent wall to avoid Dean's. "I told you. I don’t want to talk... I don’t want to talk about it.” His voice had betrayed him and he pulled away from Dean, sitting up.

Propping himself up on one elbow, Dean had touched his arm. “I don’t want to upset you—”

“It’s fine.” Why hadn’t he seen that to be close to Dean meant Dean would try to pry open all that he had kept locked away for so long? 

Dean had watched him silently and Castiel knew he didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. “Come here,” Dean had finally said and Castiel had laid back down. Dean kissed him again and Castiel tried to forget, but there was a strained edge to his every movement and it wasn’t the same, and, finally, they simply laid at each other’s side. He’d fallen asleep long after Dean, taunted by memories that still stung him to the quick, though they were so achingly familiar. 

Looking at Dean now, he wished he could find a way to say what he wanted, to explain. He slipped his hand into Dean’s and Dean glanced at him as if he'd forgotten he was there. He smiled a little and squeezed Castiel’s hand.

“Ash will show up here,” he said, nodding ahead to where the road appeared beyond the trees. They stopped before the treeline and two maidens passed by, swinging baskets and talking merrily. It seemed strange that everyone else was simply living their lives, unaware and unaffected by everything occupying the band's attention.

They waited. Dean had brought his bow and quiver and he shot at a tree a few paces off. Castiel sat on the grass and watched, something knitting together his stomach from the inside, making it hard to speak for fear any conversation would go down a route he didn’t want it to. It should’ve been a relief that Dean hadn’t said again he loved him or even brought it up, but it seemed like he was only postponing the inevitable. 

Seeming to grow bored, Dean retrieved his arrows and sat next to Castiel. Castiel looked up at the sky, or what he could see of it through the trees. Feeling Dean run his finger down his arm and along the crook of his elbow, Castiel looked down and Dean met his eyes. Castiel felt almost guilty, looking into them. He trusted Dean, didn’t he? Then why couldn’t he speak?

Footsteps drew their attention and Dean sat up. A man approached on the road, and Dean stood, calling, “Ash!”

The man seemed nervous when Dean and Castiel met him on the road. “Dean, hi.” He looked over his shoulder and around them in quick darts, then at Castiel.

“Castiel’s part of our band, you can trust him,” Dean said. “What’s the news?”

“Well, sorry to say it’s, um, it’s not good.” Ash looked behind him again. “Can we stand over there?” He pointed to the trees and they walked off the road back into the protection of the woods. 

Ash seemed to breathe easier, though he spoke quickly and continued glancing around. “It was a pain in the ass to get out of town, what with the knights crawling everywhere. They pulled me in for questioning yesterday. I played stupid, didn’t tell them anything, but I didn’t think they were going to let me go. Then a fellow from your band, Adam? Arnold?”

“Allan?” Castiel supplied.

Ash nodded. “Yeah, him. He showed up and turned himself in to the knights. Had a lot of money with him, said he had stolen it from you guys to give back to "its rightful owner, the Sheriff”—some shit like that.”

“Is he alright?” Dean asked. “Are they taking him to Nottingham?”

“No, um. Well, he’s helping them. He said he’d take them to your camp if they promised not to hang him. They’re starting out this afternoon.”

"He's leading them _here_?" Castiel asked, heart pounding, and Dean swore.

"That son of a bitch! When everyone else hears—”

“That’s not all.” Ash was looking at Dean curiously. “Allan... he told them your name, your real name.”

 _Real name?_ Castiel looked at Dean and was surprised to see Dean had blanched.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, his voice strained.

"Well, um," Ash hedged, running a hand through his long hair. "It sounds crazy, but Allan told them... told them you’re Dean Winchester. Son of the deceased Duke of Winchester.” Castiel stared at Dean, and Ash added, “You’re supposed to be dead.” 

_Winchester._ Castiel realized he knew that name. The Winchesters, one of the royal families Prince John had killed as he sought the throne.

Or tried to kill, it seemed, Castiel thought, watching Dean fight for words.

"I," Dean started, then tried again, "that's not, I don't know how—" Coming up short, he set his jaw and stared at the ground.

“So it’s true,” Ash said, though Dean's reaction was confirmation enough. _So, this is what Dean had been hiding all along._ “Everyone knows now. People in town, I suspect they’re feeling betrayed. They aren’t happy, at least.” He paused. “I’m sorry, Dean. Widow Ellen and Jo heard. They don’t know what to make of it either. I was hoping I could tell them it was a lie, but…” His voice trailed off. 

“You should go,” Dean said. He cleared his throat. “Thank you, for the information. Tell Widow Ellen and Jo that I’m sorry. I wish I could explain, but I… I…” He shook his head abruptly and walked away.

Ash looked at Castiel. “You didn’t know either.” Castiel shook his head. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to come back, but the knights are on their way. You need to leave the Forest soon.” Mutely, Castiel nodded, and Ash returned to the road.

Dean stood a few feet away, leaning with his back against a tree, staring at the ground. “Dean?” Castiel asked, approaching him.

“We need to get back to camp." Dean straightened, but didn't walk away.

“You’re nobility?” Castiel asked. “You were the son of a duke?” As if spurred by Castiel's words, Dean stooped to grab his bow and quiver. “Dean?”

“Please, Cas, we need to go, now. You heard Ash, the knights are on their way.” He started walking away.

“Dean!” Dean quickened his pace and Castiel tried to keep up. “You lied,” he realized, said aloud. “You lied about who you are, where you came from—”

Halting, Dean turned around. “I didn’t lie.”

Castiel held his gaze. _I thought you trusted me._ “No,” he said quietly. “You only left out the truth.” 

Silently, Dean kept walking, and Castiel felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. He had known Dean was hiding something—why was it so shocking to learn the truth; why was he fighting back a panic as he realized how little about Dean he truly knew?

“Are you going to tell the others?” he asked, following Dean. Then, fearfully, “Do they already know?”

“Stop asking so many goddamn questions!” Turning, Dean punched a nearby tree, then rounded on Castiel. Castiel flinched and drew back.

The anger in Dean’s eyes disappeared, replaced with surprise, then contrition. “Cas, I would never—” Castiel realized he was holding his hands up as if to ward Dean off. He dropped them quickly.

Dean stared at him for another second, then dropped his eyes. “Fuck, Cas, I’m sorry—” He put his hands to his head, gripping his hair. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He sat on the ground and buried his head in his hands. 

Castiel watched him, wary. Dropping his hands, Dean looked up at him. “No one knows,” he said. “I had to keep it a secret, to keep Sammy safe, to keep myself safe.” 

Castiel nodded. “I understand,” he said and looked away quickly. 

“Cas, please.” He was surprised to hear the tone of pleading in Dean’s voice. “Don’t act like that, I’m sorry.” 

Crossing his arms, Castiel nodded again, not trusting himself to speak.

“I wanted to tell you. Fuck, I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but I didn’t know how.” Dean pressed a hand to his forehead and swore quietly. Castiel stared at a leaf detaching itself from a branch and slowly floating to the ground.

“My father was the Duke of Winchester," Dean said. "When King Richard left to fight in the crusades, my father and other nobles tried to gain more power and Prince John sent his knights to kill us, to secure his throne." He took a deep breath. "The knights came one night, and they pulled us from our beds, and they… they killed my father. And they set our manor and our land on fire, and they tried to kill me and Sammy. But we got away.” His voice shook. “I killed one of them and we escaped.”

Castiel waited as Dean seemed to compose himself. An instinct urged him to go to Dean, touch his shoulder, sit next to him, pull him close, but he stayed rooted to the ground.

Quieter, Dean continued, “The knights told Prince John that they had killed me and Sammy, I guess to save their heads. So Sammy and I had to go on the run, had to change our name, because if anyone ever found out…” He broke off and stared at his hands, his knuckles red and torn from hitting the tree.

Castiel didn’t know what to say. Dean Locksley, a commoner like the people he helped. All a lie. 

Dean stood. “We need to get going.” He glanced at Castiel, then walked away. Castiel watched him for a long moment before he was able to will himself to move.

* * *

Little John spotted them first when they entered the glade. “Did you see Ash?” he called. “What’s the news?”

Castiel noticed Dean’s stride hesitate for a half second—the first time he'd paused since heading back to the glade—then he straightened his shoulders and walked to the fire where everyone sat. Castiel followed a few feet behind.

“We talked to him.” Dean dropped his bow and quiver on the ground. “Allan’s turned traitor. He’s leading the knights here.”

“That motherfucker!” Benny pointed at Charlie. “I knew he’d pull something like this! You should’ve gotten to him before he reached town!”

“We tried!” Charlie shot back. "But I never thought he’d betray us!”

“They’re on their way?” Will asked, his eyes fearful. “How many knights are there?”

“Cas, are they on their way now?" Gabe asked. "When will they get here?”

“There’s more,” Dean cut in before Castiel could try to formulate a response. Everyone looked at Dean, including Castiel. So, Dean was going to come clean to everyone else.

Dean cleared his throat. “You’re all gonna hear about it sooner or later, so I may as well tell you first. Allan must’ve heard, I don’t know how, but he’s told the knights and now everyone knows.” Benny swore and Castiel looked at him in surprise. Dean seemed to steady himself. “I’m Dean Winchester, son of the Duke of Winchester.”

No one spoke and Castiel watched their faces turn to astonishment. Only Benny seemed unsurprised, watching Dean with an almost sympathetic look in his eyes. Castiel looked at the ground, something of finality settling in his chest.

“I can explain everything,” Dean continued. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but, right now, the most important thing is that the knights are coming for us and we have to leave.”

“Hold on,” Little John said. “You’re nobility?”

“Your _father_ was one of those bastards we’re stealing from now?” Charlie asked incredulously.

“You have some nerve," Anna said. She stood and Charlie tried to grab her arm, but she shook her away and pointed at Dean. "All this time, you pretended to be one of us?! You never thought to tell us?”

“I know how all this sounds," Dean said, holding up his hands. "But that life, who I was, I’m not that person anymore. I hate Prince John, the Sheriff, the nobles, as much as any of you. Even if I could go back to that life, I wouldn’t.” He looked around the band. “I know I should've told you, I’m sorry, I truly am.”

Benny spoke up. “It’s not your fault that you were born as nobility." He looked around at the band, eyes fierce. “You’re here now, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re one of us.”

At that, Castiel had suddenly had enough. Abruptly, he turned and walked away.

“Cas?” 

Castiel threw a twig into the woods. He sat with his back to the glade, listening to the rise of voices and arguments without hearing any what was being spoken. Dean stopped by his side and he picked up another twig, broke it in half.

“I know you’re angry that I didn’t tell you," Dean said. "I don’t fault you for that—”

Shaking his head, Castiel looked up at Dean. “Why did you lie to me?”

“Cas,” Dean started.

“No, not about who you are.” Castiel stared back at the broken twig in his hands. “You told me no one knew, no one in the band did. But Benny did. He already knew.”

Dean sighed, then sat down across from him. Castiel broke the twig pieces in half again. 

“You’re right,” Dean said finally. “Benny’s known for a while. I met him so soon after Samuel and I ran away, it was still so new, I needed someone to know. By the time we made this camp and others began joining us, enough time had passed and I decided to never speak of it again.”

“Why keep it a secret?” Castiel looked at Dean. “You didn’t keep it a secret just to stay safe. You could’ve trusted the others. Most of them anyway,” he added, thinking of Allan.

Dean nodded. “I know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I know, I could've told Little John. Charlie. But it isn’t something I ever wanted to speak of, much less think of. It’s been a whole lot easier to try and pretend it never happened.”

Castiel knew, too well, what Dean meant. He tossed the twigs into the forest. He knew he should be able to understand. “Guess that doesn’t work."

“No, it doesn’t.”

Castiel could hear everyone around the fire still arguing, Benny’s voice rising above the rest. “Do you still have feelings for Benny?” he asked, despite feeling miserable asking it.

“No.” There was a tinge of annoyance in Dean’s voice. “I told you, we were together a while ago, when I was all mixed up. You don’t think I’ve been lying to you about that, do you?” Castiel could feel Dean's eyes on him. “Cas, there’s nothing between us, I swear.”

“Are you sure Benny feels that way?” Castiel met Dean’s eyes.

“Of course he does.” He seemed almost confused. “What do you mean?”

Castiel stood. He could hear the voices around the fire dispersing. “I think I should help everyone. We need to leave.”

Dean rose to his feet. “This is why you’re angry? Because of Benny? I thought we were past that.”

“No. I suppose that’s not the full reason.” Castiel crossed his arms, looked away. There was more, but he didn’t know how to speak of it. He said what he did know. “I’m not sure you… I’m starting to think that if this didn’t happen, you would’ve never told me about being nobility, about how your father died. I’m starting to think I will never really know you.” 

“Well, I know there’s plenty you aren’t telling me.” There was a harshness to Dean's voice Castiel had never heard before—but why was he surprised? What did he know of Dean anymore? “And I don’t think you have any intentions of telling me either, you’d rather shut me out.” 

Castiel nearly began to protest, then he realized he didn’t have the desire to lie anymore. Maybe this was what needed to happen. Wasn’t it what he had been dreading—everything falling apart? And now he knew he couldn’t run from it anymore. 

“You’re right,” he said and met Dean’s eyes. “I don’t have any right to be angry with you when there’s things I will never tell you, never tell anyone.”

Dean stared back at him. “You mean that, truly?" he asked. "You’d never tell me? I thought...”

“I think,” Castiel started slowly, forcing the words out, “I think I don’t feel the same way about you as you do about me. And I don't think I ever can."

Dean's expression crumpled before he ducked his head to hide his face. After a long moment in which Castiel didn't think his heart beat once, Dean nodded. “I see.” He met Castiel’s eyes again and this time his face was unreadable, something settled across his eyes like stone, and Castiel felt a weight on his shoulders like a cloak surrounding him, trapping him, rendering him immobile.

A chill ran through him as a memory rose to taunt him. He didn’t know what had woken him that night so many years ago. Maybe the soft pads of his mother’s feet along the floor, maybe a door creaking under the weight of her hand...

_In an instant, he is wide awake, his eyes open and scanning the darkness. In the silence, he first thinks he’s been woken by a scratch of a tree branch on the shuttered window—then he sees a glint across the room. He stares as the glint moves forward, wavers, and then, his eyes adjust to the darkness and he makes out the shape of his mother approaching him, the sharp glint in her hand…_

Dean turned away and Castiel blinked, drawn from the memory. He watched as Dean joined the others in their preparations to flee. 

Tears stung his eyes and he looked back out at the dark forest. He dug his thumbnail into his palm until the tears went away, then kept digging his nail into his hand to stop himself from thinking, of acknowledging, the near wild distress clawing inside, threatening to overwhelm him. He had been here before, he had known this would happen, he was cursed to ruin everything he touched, cursed to see everyone he loved turn to hate him.

It was all too much, but he forced himself to turn back to the glade. Looking away from Dean, he forced his feet towards where Gabriel was dismantling their tent. They had to flee. That was all that mattered.


	16. Disbanded

Castiel plodded through the forest, following the trailing line of on-the-run outlaws, led by Dean. Leaves and grass, slick with morning dew, mushed beneath his boots and birds called each other shrilly above his head. 

Gabriel walked at his side, uncommonly quiet. Everyone was quiet, in fact. No one had spoken much as they scattered the ashes of the fire, pulled down the tents, took their weapons, and left the glade. Castiel had felt a strange, sad pull as they walked into the forest, a rush of guilt flooding him at the way Charlie looked back at the tall oak tree. He’d only been here a little over a month and it already felt like home—many of the others had lived here for much longer. Where would they go now?

Around midday, they stopped to rest, and Dean and Little John set off to scout out the road. Castiel realized they’d been roughly heading towards the edge of Sherwood Forest where they could escape into the countryside.

He sat down on an overturned tree and refused the food Gabriel offered him. Gabriel eyed him but didn’t speak. Charlie and Anna whispered and few feet away and Castiel wondered vaguely if they were talking about him, blaming him.

Dean and Little John returned. “There’s knights watching the highway,” Little John said. “I’d suspect they’re posted along all the roads and towns beyond the forest as well.”

“We’ll have to head farther up north and get ahead of them,” Dean said. 

Everyone began to rise and grab their belongings. Castiel stared at the ground.  _ And then what?  _ he thought. But, standing, he grabbed his pack and followed everyone deeper into the forest.

* * *

“This blows,” Gabriel said. It was such an understatement that Castiel didn’t even attempt to respond. He and Gabriel brought up the rear of their sorry procession, and Castiel watched Dean duck under a low tree branch ahead.

Gabriel nodded in Dean’s direction. “So, are you two fighting now?” Castiel bit his lip. That seemed so simple, so temporary. “He never told you that he was nobility?” 

Castiel shook his head. "No." 

Gabriel grimaced. “Ouch. Sorry.” He pushed back a thorny vine for Castiel to pass under. “How long do you think the knights will be after us? They’re not going to search the whole forest, right?”

“I don’t know, Gabe.” Castiel kicked over a stone and saw a clump of what seemed to be dirt scatter into insects. “Maybe they’ll give up once there are no more robberies or sign of the Hood.”

“Wait, you think this is it? The band’s done?”

“Isn’t it? The knights are after us, we had to leave our camp. What other option do we have?” 

“But where else do we have to go?”

Castiel hesitated. He had given up everything to be here, to be with Dean. Look at where that left him now. “I don’t know.”

* * *

When they stopped for the night, darkness had enveloped them like thick, stagnant smog so that Castiel could hardly see where he was putting his feet. Unable to risk a fire, they tucked themselves in between logs and trees and resigned themselves to the chill of the night.

Castiel pulled his blanket around him and settled on the ground after half-heartedly checking for rocks. Grass and leaves pricked his face and he rolled over onto his back. 

He could hear the others shifting, rearranging their blankets, and he dreaded the silence that would follow. His eyes followed the vague outlines of the tree branches and leaves against the sky above him. The sound of branches scraping together drew a chill down his spine and, in an instant, he was in his old bedroom, scanning the darkness to see what woke him.

_ A glint, something catching the faint light leaking between the shuttered window. Then fear grips his body tight as his eyes adjust to the darkness and he makes out the shape of his mother approaching him, holding a knife. _

_ “Mother,” he manages, a plea, his voice barely a whisper.  _

_ At his voice, his mother's eyes narrow, and he scrambles away, falls off his bed in a tangle of blankets, but not before a sharp sear cuts across his side.  _

_ “Mother! Stop, please!” he yells and she collapses on his bed in sobs. He retreats until his back hits the opposite wall and there he sits, his side burning and his chest rising and falling in quick, shaky jerks. He stares at his mother. When she remains face down on the bed, the only sound her sobs, he slowly reaches out and pulls the knife from her hand.  _

_ She lets him, then slowly sits up, pushing her hair back from her wet face. “Why did you do this to me?” she asks, tears streaming down her cheeks, wetting the collar of her nightgown.  _

_ He can’t answer, couldn't have even if his throat didn’t felt sealed shut and he wasn’t trembling. She pushes herself to her feet, stares at him for a long second, and he looks away, down at the knife in his hand. He realizes belatedly that the dark, wet, stickiness on the handle is his blood. The floor creaks and he looks up quickly. But his mother is turning away from him, her long hair in tangles down her back. She leaves the room and still he sits. The knife in his hand feels suddenly too heavy and he drops it to the floor.  _

Coming back to himself, Castiel realized he was trembling,  gripping his blanket. He let go, his fingers unclenching painfully, and pushed himself up shakily to sit. The moonlight cast shifting shadows on the ground and, in the rasping branches overhead, he heard his mother’s voice whisper, _I hate you._

How did he pass that night? Castiel wondered now, pulling his knees up and crossing his arms, staring at the dirt. Did he think at all? He only remembered sitting there. Watching the door through which his mother, so suddenly a stranger, had left. Startling at any noise as he expected her to return. 

But she didn’t, and the room had slowly lightened and he had looked down at his side, saw that blood had soaked through his nightshirt. It was only then that he left his room and went to find her. Found her, at the tree—

"No," Castiel whispered, ducking his head on his knees. Tears stung his eyes and he gave up trying to stop them, tried to cry quietly so no one would hear. 

"Cas?" he heard someone whisper and raised his head quickly to see Gabriel sitting up a few feet away. Embarrassed, Castiel wiped at his eyes, but Gabriel crawled over. "What's wrong?" he whispered, sitting at Castiel's side.

Unable to speak, Castiel only shook his head again. He stiffened when Gabriel put his hand on his back. 

"Was it a nightmare? I know they wake you up sometimes," Gabriel said hesitantly and Castiel closed his eyes. He wished it was only a nightmare. 

When Castiel didn't answer, Gabriel offered, "If you ever want to talk about it—"

Opening his eyes, Castiel shrugged Gabriel's hand off his back. "Please just leave me alone." The words came out hitched as he tried to take a shaky breath.

"It's alright, you can tell me," Gabriel started.

Castiel shook his head, his throat tightening. "They're not nightmares, they're real—" Tears started slipping down his face again. "I can't, I don't want to—" Turning away, he lay back down, and Gabriel drew back.

Pulling his blanket up over himself and squeezing his eyes shut, Castiel waited, listening. After several long seconds, Gabriel moved away. 

Letting out a shaky breath, Castiel opened his eyes, felt more tears slide down his face into the grass. What would Gabriel think if he knew? He already thought Castiel was damaged—how could he not? He'd heard the things the squires and knights said about Castiel— _never good enough, never amount to anything_ —saw the way Castiel woke with jolts as memories attacked him in his sleep. 

And now, this mess. On the run. Knights searching for them. If it wasn't for Castiel, Gabriel would've never left the castle and become an outlaw. If Gabriel wasn't blaming Castiel already, he soon would be. Castiel had ruined his life.

Shutting his eyes, trying to push it all away, will himself to sleep, all Castiel could see behind his eyelids was the empty look in his mother’s eyes, the way her shoulders shook with her sobs. She'd blamed him too. Castiel wasn't so sure she was wrong.

* * *

“I say we ambush them,” Benny said. “They won’t expect that.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair, then shook his head. “We’re not going to risk our lives.”

“Maybe you won’t, but I will. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life on the run. This is our forest! Those fuckers can go to hell!”

Castiel sat on his blanket, listening to Dean and Benny argue. He wasn't sure he'd slept at all, if the heavy weariness drawing his shoulders down was any indication. A faint drizzle that began in the night had now dissipated into a mist, clinging heavily to the forest, making the air thick and harder to breathe.

“We don’t even know how many knights are after us,” Will interjected.

“So?" Benny shot back. "We surround them, shoot at them. Who cares if Allan gets hit, he deserves it—”

“Benny,” Dean warned. He stood. “We need to keep moving.” 

Castiel rolled up his blanket and avoided Dean’s eyes. He waited until Dean started off, then fell in line, walking behind Charlie.

“Did you know?” she asked suddenly, turning to him. “About Dean being a Winchester?” 

Castiel shook his head. He wished everyone would stop asking him. It hurt more to know everyone expected him to know, that they thought Dean surely would’ve told him. 

“Damn,” she said. “He really kept that close to his chest. Wonder how Allan found out.”

“Benny knew.” Castiel looked ahead at where Benny was walking apart from the others, whacking aside brush and branches. Since leaving the glade, he hadn’t seen Dean or Benny talk except to argue.

Charlie frowned. “Oh.” She snapped a twig off of a bush and rolled it between her fingers. “You know, I don’t really give a rat’s ass that Dean was nobility. The Sheriff wants him dead as much as any of us. But the fact he didn’t tell us...” She threw the twig into the brush.

“Maybe he had good reason to.” 

Castiel glanced behind them to see David. He shrugged when they looked at him. “I’m trying to convince myself like the rest of you.”

“Well, it’s a bitch of a situation either way,” Charlie said. She glanced at Castiel then, and Castiel avoided her eyes. He wished everyone would have it out with him, like Benny did, instead of avoiding the subject, talking to him like they didn’t hate him. And they must hate him. He was the reason the knights had gotten a hold of Dean in the first place. 

Slowing his pace, he dropped back to leave Charlie and David talking amongst themselves and continued walking alone.

* * *

“Cas.”

Castiel looked up from where he was laying his blanket down a few yards from the others. It was evening and they were sharing food, the mood a little lighter than the day before, though still tense. Castiel couldn’t bear it, couldn’t let himself ease up even a little. Not around Dean, not when he knew he wasn’t welcome.

But here was Dean, standing in front of him. Castiel smoothed his blanket out over the uneven ground.

“Cas, can we talk? Please.”

“What for?” Castiel tossed an encroaching stone away. 

“I shouldn’t have said what I did.” Frowning, Castiel looked up at Dean. “You’ve every right to be angry at me."

Standing, Castiel brushed dirt from his hands. “You were right though, everything you said was right.”

“Fuck, Cas, I’m trying to apologize, alright?” Dean crossed his arms and Castiel pushed the edge of his blanket with his boot. “I hate knowing you’re mad at me. I… I want to make it better. Please tell me there’s something I can do.”

“We’ve both said our pieces,” Castiel said quietly. “Can’t we just leave it alone?”

“Will you at least let me try to explain myself? I’m not trying to justify lying to you, but I want you to understand, at least  _ why _ I kept it from you.”

Castiel shifted his stance. He wasn't sure it mattered, wasn't sure an explanation would fix anything, but he nodded. “Go ahead.” 

“Alright. Well. May I?” Dean pointed at the blanket and Castiel nodded again. 

Dean sat down and, after a moment’s hesitation, Castiel sat down next to him, as far away as he could on the blanket. Rubbing a hand over his face, Dean sighed. “I don’t even know what to say, where to begin.” He was silent for a moment and Castiel waited, wished he wouldn’t speak. 

"I'm sorry I lied about Benny knowing," Dean finally said. "I just thought you would be angry that I had told him and not you. I didn't want you to think I didn't trust you." Castiel felt miserable knowing Dean was right.

“Because I do trust you," Dean said. He stared at his hands. "I never wanted to be an outlaw, and I never wanted this life. But now, I think I deserve this, to make up for what my parents did, what I’ve done. I know my father did terrible things, and I’ve been so ashamed of my family’s name. My father would be furious at me to see the way I’ve hid it.” 

Castiel watched him.  _ Stop telling me this _ . _ Stop giving more of yourself, after everything. Stop trusting me. _

“That night when they killed my father,” Dean said, his voice steady, “I couldn’t do a damn thing. I watched him die, right in front of me, and only then did I start fighting. I killed a knight to get away and I… I didn’t even hesitate. I don’t even remember what he looked like. How could I—” He broke off, and after a moment continued more slowly, “I thought that, even if I never talked about it, at least I would never let myself forget, and that now, I would do all I could to make it right.” 

He laughed a quick, nervous laugh, one without humor. “I’ve messed that up plenty, I know.  I don’t know why all this matters.” He was quiet for a moment. “I wanted you to know.” He looked at Castiel and his eyes were serious, somber. Castiel couldn't meet them for long.

He studied the ground. Why did Dean keep trying? He was only making this harder. He should know how this would end, he should know that Castiel could never give back everything Dean gave to him—Castiel had tried to tell him, had tried to make it clear. 

He was too tired to be angry anymore. He didn't blame Dean; he blamed himself. For thinking he could be happy for once. For finding a home, a family, and ruining it.

Crossing his arms, Castiel said, quietly, “Maybe this was a mistake, my coming here. Joining the band.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean’s shoulders sag and still he continued, “We hardly knew each other and maybe we both got carried away and…” He couldn’t meet Dean’s eyes. “Maybe it’s best I leave, after all this is over, after we get out of the forest.”

“Cas, please. You don’t mean that.” Dean reached out to touch him and Castiel drew back. He glanced at Dean as he did so and almost wavered. But he had to make Dean understand. Dean dropped his hand at his side. 

Castiel nodded. “I do.”

He held his breath until Dean stood, walked away and, even then, he wasn’t sure he was breathing. It was as if he wasn’t there, not truly, and he couldn’t feel a damn thing. 

Pulling his arms closer around himself, digging his nails into his palms, he stayed sitting and didn’t move for a long time.

* * *

He was rolling up his blanket in the morning when Gabriel walked over to him. “I was talking to David, and he’s going to stick around with Dean and the others when we leave the Forest.” 

“Oh.” Castiel put his blanket in his pack.

“So, what do you think? It’s our only option, really.”

“I can’t.” Castiel straightened. “This isn’t going to work.”

“You mean being in the band or being with Dean?” He waited and, when Castiel didn’t speak, said, “I know I don’t have a place to say anything, but you gave up being a squire, your future as a knight, for Dean, for this band. You're just going to give that up?”

“I’m not giving up—”

“Then what’s going on?” Castiel didn’t know to explain, even to himself. “Dean wants you to stay, doesn’t he?”

“If he does, he’s not thinking straight.”

“Cas.” Gabriel waited until Castiel reluctantly looked at him. “I know you’re going to hate me for saying this, but you’re too in your head.”  Castiel scoffed. “No, it’s true. Dean cares about you, anyone can see that, but you don’t think anyone can care about you so you don’t  even let them try.  I mean, we’ve been friends for a while now and I still don’t know fuck all about you, where you came from, your family—I mean, I heard rumors at the castle and I know something fucked up must have happened. But we’ve been friends for a while now. I like to think you trust me. But, then again, I don’t know, you’re so closed off sometimes.”

_ Not you too _ , Castiel thought. Aloud, he said, “If I’m so much of a pain, why did you become friends with me in the first place? I never asked you to.”

“That’s what I’m saying, Cas!” Gabriel threw up his hands. “You shut people out before you even give them a chance!”

He’d given Dean a chance, hadn’t he? Coming to Sherwood Forest was the bravest thing he’d ever done. The most foolish thing he’d ever done, too.

Picking up his pack, Castiel slung it across his shoulder. “I have to leave, Gabe.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere. I want to stay with the band.”

They stared at each other until Castiel looked away. Tears stung his eyes. 

“Fine,” Gabriel said. “Leave on your own then.” He walked away.

* * *

Clouds bunched together in the sky until it seemed evening had come early, casting the forest in an uneasy grey hue. Still, they kept walking. Castiel had successfully avoided Gabriel and Dean the whole day, and the tense atmosphere between them seemed to spread to the others because everyone else kept their distance as well. It made Castiel feel ill, but he told himself this was how it was supposed to be, what he was used to. 

As he trudged through the thick underbrush, he thought of what Gabriel had said that morning. Did Gabriel truly want to know about Castiel's life before the castle? Castiel had never thought he cared. But even if he did feel inclined to share, there was no point in telling Gabriel anything now. They’d soon be splitting up. 

Pushing the thought away, Castiel  found himself wishing Dean knew—about his mother, her hatred—but that was only a selfish desire to speak and be comforted. Dean was better off without Castiel’s burdens; it seemed he had plenty of his own already. And Castiel wasn’t so sure Dean would care to listen anyway.

He heard the waterfall before he caught a glimpse of the rushing water through the trees. They entered a small clearing and Castiel squinted up at the cascade, where one of the sun’s last rays pierced through the clouds to turn the splashing water into shards of light.

“This is as good a place as any to stop for the night,” Little John remarked, setting down his pack.

“We’re a day’s walk away from the road now," Will said, looking around. "We could be out of the forest by tomorrow night.”

No one said anything else, the unspoken lying heavy in the air. Filling his canteen at the river, Castiel heard everyone else gather to eat at a wide stone jutting out over the water. 

“Cas, you wanna eat?” Anna called and, surprised she was speaking to him, he turned.

“I’m not really hungry,” he said, holding his canteen in his hands. 

“Shut the fuck up and eat,” Gabriel said without looking at him.

Anna looked between them, and Castiel shook his head, trying to smile, trying to play it off as Gabriel being his usual joking self. He sat down at the base of the rock and took the food Anna offered to him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean and Benny arguing a few yards off. Dean broke away, shaking his head, and walked over to them. He didn’t sit, only glanced at Castiel and stepped to the edge of the river.

“Do you think the knights have arrived at the glade?” Will asked quietly.

“Probably,” Charlie said. “But imagine their faces when they see we’re gone.” 

Her effort at cheerfulness fell flat when David said, "But then what will they do next?”

“Ask him,” Benny said, walking over, a sneer directed at Castiel. 

Castiel reddened as everyone’s eyes turned to him.  Benny looked over at Dean, then back at Castiel, a challenge in his eyes though he feigned nonchalance, sitting down and grabbing food. “We're all thinking it.  Castiel is the reason we’re in this mess.”

“Don’t start with that again,” Dean said, his tone a dark warning as he turned away from the river. 

"You can't blame Cas, that isn’t fair," Gabriel started, but Benny cut him off.

“You don’t know anything, you or Castiel," he spat. "You’ve only been here a month, you don’t know what it took to get to this place—”

“Shut the fuck up now,” Dean threatened, taking a step away from the river. “You don't have any right to speak like that. Cas did nothing wrong.”

“Of course you’d keep defending him, you’re fucking him,” Benny shot back.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Dean started towards him, eyes flashing fierce.

“No need to start fighting amongst ourselves!” Little John interjected, standing up and holding out his hands. Dean stopped short, glaring at Benny. Benny only shook his head, giving Castiel a cutting look before standing and stalking away.

Castiel took a deep breath when he was gone, thankful a fight had been avoided. Dean seemed to be thinking about going after Benny—at least, he was shooting daggers at his retreating back—but he crossed his arms and stayed put.

“Listen," Little John continued, looking around at all of them, "Castiel and Gabriel are one of us, and it doesn’t matter what Dean and Castiel get up to—”

“Can everyone stop talking about—” Dean cut himself off and took a deep breath. “Thank you, Little John." 

Little John nodded and pat Dean on the shoulder. Castiel studied the ground, his face warm. He heard Dean shift his stance before speaking,  "I don’t want to hear anyone say shit about Castiel, or blame anybody. We’re in a hell of a mess and it’s only going to get worse if we keep on going like this, beating around the bush.” Castiel glanced up to see Dean squaring his shoulders. “We’re going to get away from these knights, I promise. But, what comes next, I don’t know. I’m not pressuring any of you to stick around with me. If you want to get the hell away, then fine. You have every right to leave. And, if any of you has anything to say to me, then say it. Please.”

Castiel looked around and watched everyone avoid each others’ eyes. 

Little John was the first to speak. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy,” he said. “I’ll be with you.”

“Thank you,” Dean said.

“I’m coming with you guys too,” David spoke up and Will nodded. 

“Me too,” Gabriel added. 

Castiel looked away when Dean glanced at him. He saw Charlie and Anna exchange a look.

“Listen, Dean,” Anna started slowly, “I want to, but if the knights were to catch us… my family doesn’t know I’m an outlaw. It’d kill them.”

“I understand,” Dean said. He looked down at his feet, then up at everyone. “For what it’s worth, I’m thankful you were all part of the band. I wish we didn’t have to part ways like this.”

Castiel wondered if that last part was aimed more at him than anyone else. He didn’t look up to see if Dean’s eyes were on him. It didn’t matter that Dean had defended him, it didn’t matter Dean and Benny were fighting. Nothing could change his mind.

With not much more to be said, everyone soon dispersed to bed down for the night. Castiel walked to the edge of the river, looked at the spray of water at the base of the waterfall, the churning water turning into the small rippling of the river.

He heard someone walking over to him and half-turned.  _ Not again, _ he thought as Dean stopped by his side. He stared back down at the water.

“I’m assuming you and Gabriel decided to split up,” Dean said. Castiel watched the water gulp and dip around a rock jutting out of the river. “He’s going to stick with us and you’re going to go elsewhere.”

“Yes,” Castiel said, though Dean hadn’t framed it like a question. The trees on the other side of the bank rustled in a gust of wind and leaves dropped to the water, spinning away.

“Cas,” Dean said, “I know I don’t have a right to ask for this, but… I hope that you won’t leave.”

Castiel didn’t speak, or couldn’t, didn’t have anything to say and, after a moment, Dean turned and Castiel heard him walk away. Low thunder rumbled and Castiel wiped his eyes, looked up at the sky and felt the first raindrops fall on his face.

* * *

The short blast of a bugle woke Castiel from his shallow, rain-soaked sleep with a jolt. 

He shot up to the scrape of metal, yelling, the pounding of feet. Though he’d tucked himself under a thick tree to provide some shelter from the rain, he was soaked through. Peering in the darkness, he tried to pick out details in the rain. The rainfall’s pattering and the white noise of the waterfall obscured sounds, disorienting him.

“They’re here!” a voice rose among the commotion. Someone ran past him and Castiel startled at the thunk of an arrow hitting the ground. Scrambling to his feet, Castiel ducked behind a tree. He wiped water from his face and caught a flash of metal in the darkness. Somewhere close by, a horse neighed and stamped the ground. 

A cry of pain rang out and Castiel's heart pounded.

The knights had found them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual, comments are always appreciated! 
> 
> and can i just say, i appreciate every single person who's reading along with this story—it makes me so happy to know my writing isn't just falling off into a void, so thank you :)


	17. Part 5: The Merry Men

How had the knights found them? Castiel ducked further behind the tree at the sounds of struggle to his right. A cry across the clearing was quickly muffled, the pouring rain swallowing sounds of horses and yells. Should he flee into the forest? What if the knights were killing everyone?

Then, someone yelled to his right. In the flashes of lightning and faint moonlight, Castiel spotted a foot soldier dragging Gabriel from the forest.

"Fuck you—no—" Gabriel got loose for a moment, then the foot soldier grabbed him by the collar and slammed him to the ground.

_No, no, no._ Dropping to the ground, Castiel searched desperately for the cudgel that he had placed by his blanket. His fingers touched the rough wood and, grasping the weapon, he ran to Gabriel. 

The foot soldier grappled with Gabriel, who was kicking and swinging wildly. He half-turned when Castiel swung his cudgel and the blow caught him on the arm. He stumbled back and Castiel swung again. This time the foot soldier ducked and tackled him to the ground.

The force of the fall was enough to knock the air out of Castiel, and he lost his hold on the cudgel. He had enough presence of mind to block a blow to the face, then the foot soldier fell off of him with a grunt. Castiel looked up to see Gabriel standing above him, holding Castiel's cudgel. 

“What’s happening?” Castiel yelled above the rain as Gabriel pulled him to his feet. “Where are the others?”

“I don’t know!” Gabriel handed him his cudgel and shoved him towards the forest, “Let's go, come on!”

They started running, then another cry pierced through the rain. Gabriel yelled, “David!” and whirled around. He started running towards the river where figures Castiel couldn’t make out were struggling.

Castiel began to follow Gabriel, then sounds of commotion drew his attention to his right. Anna was fighting off a knight, keeping him at bay, but another foot soldier was heading towards her. Hesitating, Castiel almost missed the soft whisper of an arrow passing him.

He spun around to see a would-be-attacker drop his sword and fall to the ground behind him with a cry of pain, an arrow protruding from his leg. 

Squinting in the rain, Castiel searched the direction from which the arrow came. A few yards away, he saw Dean lowering his bow. Castiel couldn't tell if their eyes met through the rain, but then Dean turned and disappeared in the darkness.

Heart pounding at the close call, Castiel ran towards Anna.

Anna nearly tripped and fell as one knight swung at her head, and a foot soldier advanced on her. Castiel swung his cudgel at the latter, but the foot soldier turned and deftly blocked the blow with his battle-axe. The harsh impact nearly knocked Castiel’s cudgel out of his hands and, before he was fully recovered, the foot soldier’s battle-axe slashed his arm.

The sharp pain only made Castiel frantic, and he attacked again and again, the foot soldier defending himself each time. Finally, Castiel saw a chance and struck the foot soldier’s knee with a crack. The foot soldier swore and stumbled back. Castiel kicked him to the ground, then struck him across the head. The foot soldier fell heavily on his side, still.

Anna grabbed Castiel's arm. “Are you alright?” Castiel nodded, though his arms were shaking and his wound stinging fiercely. The knight Anna had been fighting now lay motionless on the ground. He searched for Gabriel and David but he couldn't tell if anyone stood near the river.

“No!” someone—it sounded like Benny—yelled, and Anna gasped. Turning, Castiel's stomach dropped.

Two knights dragged Dean to their horses. Dean kicked and struggled, and, for a moment, it almost seemed he might get free. Then one of the knights struck him on the side of the head. Dean crumpled. 

"Dean!" Castiel was running towards him before he realized he was doing so. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a foot soldier tackle Benny, stopping him from following Dean. An arrow struck one of the knights holding the now-unconscious Dean. The knight stumbled and fell, but the other knight grabbed Dean under the arms and pulled him to a saddled horse. 

Then someone grabbed Castiel’s arm, yanking him painfully to a stop. Castiel tried to pull away, but his attacker, a foot soldier, kicked his knee out from under him, and he fell into the mud.

"Get off!" he yelled, struggling. "You can't take him!" A punch to the face sent sparks of light through his vision. The back of his head hit the ground. Dizzy, half-blind from mud and rain, he grappled with the foot soldier. The glean of metal caught his eye, and he rolled over quickly.

The foot soldier's battle-axe missed his chest, sinking into the mud instead. Before the foot soldier could pull it out, Castiel kicked at his legs. The foot soldier fell, and Castiel scrambled to his knees. He grabbed the battle-axe, wrenching it from the mud, and swung at the foot soldier.

It plunged into the foot soldier’s chest with a sickening crack. Castiel fell back, his hands shaking.

_Dean. Have to help Dean._

Breathing heavily, staring at the soldier he had killed, he pushed himself to his feet and wiped mud from his eyes, realized his hand was covered in mud itself.

Disoriented, he stumbled and looked around wildly. He saw Benny stab the knight who had tackled him and push the body aside. Little John plunged into the forest. Castiel turned around at a sound, expecting a knight, but only saw Will trying to stand, blood trickling from his head as he looked around with wide eyes.

The rest of the foot soldiers and knights, beyond anyone unconscious or dead on the ground, seemed to have fled. But where was Dean? 

The sound of running drew his attention and Anna emerged from the forest. Charlie ran to her and grabbed her, pulling her close.

“They took Dean,” Anna said, like she couldn’t believe it. Benny swore, rising slowly, keeping one foot hovered above the ground. 

_No_ , Castiel thought. She was wrong, it wasn’t true. Then Little John emerged from the forest, his head hung low. In his hands he held Dean’s bugle and Castiel’s stomach dropped.

“Where is he?” Benny demanded.

"They took him," Little John said, echoing Anna.

Castiel’s legs gave out and he dropped to his knees. Dean was gone.

* * *

“We could go after him,” Benny said. 

“How?” Charlie demanded. She straightened from where she was bandaging Anna’s leg and gestured to everyone. “Look at us! We’re lucky we’re alive!”

Castiel washed mud from his arms in a trickling stream. The day was grey and hazy from the heavy clouds still covering the sky and diffusing the sunlight. His clothes were clinging to him, stiff from dried mud, and he hardly remembered how they had gotten here.

He remembered Little John pulling him to his feet and telling him to run. He remembered following everyone into the forest, running until he tripped and fell and didn't have the energy to get up. Feeling a cold seep through his clothing, and realizing he was kneeling in a shallow river.

That's where they had halted, gathered, silent and stunned. Hopefully they were far enough away from the waterfall clearing, where other knights might soon return to try and take them captive. 

“Your arm’s bleeding.”

Castiel looked up to see Gabriel standing next to him. He looked at his right arm, at a rip in the sleeve of his tunic, and a line of blood. “Oh." 

Sitting down next to him, Gabriel handed him a rag. Castiel pushed it to his wound and winced. 

“The knights couldn’t have gotten too far,” Benny said. 

“You can’t even walk,” Charlie snapped. 

Benny swore and pushed his hands to his eyes. “How could this happen?” he asked. “How the fuck did this happen?!” Nobody answered. 

Castiel pulled the rag away from his arm, looked at the blood without much interest, and pressed it back to his wound. It couldn’t be true. Dean couldn’t be gone.

“You know what they’re going to do to him,” Little John said quietly.

“Don’t say that,” David warned. Will wiped his eyes once, then again, and ducked his head, his shoulder shaking. David put his arm around him.

Charlie finished bandaging Anna’s leg with the cloth she had stripped from her tunic. She stood, seemed about to walk away or do something, then stood still. 

Castiel stared at the bloody rag in his hands. “I killed someone," he said quietly. "I tried to get to Dean—" his voice broke. Gabriel nodded, but didn't reply.

“Is your arm alright?” Anna asked Charlie.

“It’s fine,” Charlie said brusquely. She brushed her hair from her face. 

Castiel thought suddenly of Samuel, of Bobby. Who would let them know? Tears sprung to his eyes and he dipped the rag into the river, washing the blood away. Anna was crying and the sound made Castiel’s throat tighten. 

“They’ll take him to Nottingham,” Benny said. Castiel looked up at him. He looked exhausted, a cold deadness in his eyes before he hung his head to stare at the ground. 

Dean had always seemed so invincible. _This can’t be happening,_ Castiel thought desperately. It seemed unreal. That Dean would hang—the Hood, the one who’d welcomed him into the band, who'd invited him into his family, who'd stuck by him and defended him even when Castiel was pushing him away, who loved him—and there he had to stop as guilt threatened to choke him. 

"He's going to die," Castiel whispered, burying his face in his hands, tears stinging his eyes. And, faced with that awful truth, he was confronted by another: Dean had given him so much of himself, and Castiel had squandered it all away.

“What now?” Gabriel asked quietly.

He knew Gabriel was looking at him, but he didn’t have any answers to give. Dean was the one who always had an answer, who led them. He shook his head. "I don't know." 

After everything Dean had done to protect himself and his band, for it all to end this way… and then Castiel knew. 

He lifted his head. "Benny's right." He caught Benny’s surprised look, but continued, looking at Gabriel and the others, "We have to rescue Dean. We can’t give up on him." 

* * *

As Little John said, “There isn’t any question about it." Once it was spoken, they lost no time in setting out.

It was nightfall by the time they crossed through the forest and escaped into the countryside, moving fast despite any injuries. Benny scoffed when Will asked if he needed a rest, a determined look in his eyes despite his limp. Will and David led the way across fields and woods to Blidworth, where Widow Ellen and Jo were staying. If they wanted to reach Nottingham in time, they would need help.

"Stay here. I'll go," Little John said as they paused across the road from the farmhouse where David said Widow Ellen and Jo were staying. He started across the road, but Castiel spoke up,

"Wait." He'd been building up the courage as they approached Blidworth. Little John looked back at him and Castiel continued, nervously, "They should know that it's my fault they had to leave their home."

Little John nodded. "Alright." He motioned for Castiel to come along. 

The farmhouse was quiet and, as they crossed the yard, a dog barked, startling Castiel. Little John knocked on the backdoor and a moment passed before a light shone in the window. The front door opened to reveal a woman holding a candle. “Who are you?” she demanded. 

“We’re friends of Widow Ellen,” Little John started, then Jo appeared behind the woman.

Her shoulders dropped in visible relief at the sight of them and she looked over her shoulder. “Ma!” she called, "They're alive!"

Widow Ellen pushed her way past Jo and the other woman. “Oh, thank goodness,” she said, hugging Little John, then Castiel. Castiel stood stiffly, uncomfortable by the warm welcome.

“Knights passed through this morning in a hurry," Widow Ellen explained. "They had Dean in their tow, and we assumed the worst.” She looked past them into the darkness. “Is everyone else…?”

“We’re all alive,” Little John said. “Though there’s plenty of injuries apiece.”

“You should be careful,” the woman holding the candle said. “Some of the knights left to take Dean to Nottingham, but there's still some foot soldiers and squires around. They’re trying to track all of you down.”

“This is Pamela,” Widow Ellen said, gesturing to her. “She’s been hiding us ever since the knights came after us." She looked back at Little John. "Have you heard any news? Those bastards didn't touch my alehouse, did they?” 

"I don't think so—" Little John started and Castiel had to speak.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. Everyone's eyes turned on him. He forced himself to meet Widow Ellen’s eyes. “I’m... I'm the reason you had to flee. The knights captured Dean and I, and they asked for information, and I... I told them you helped us.”

"You told them?" Jo asked, her eyes wide. "After everything we've done for the band—!"

"Jo," Widow Ellen warned. Her eyes were stern and Castiel said,

"I would take it back if I could. I'm so sorry, truly."

Widow Ellen shook her head. "Well, you haven’t made our lives any easier, that’s for certain." Castiel nodded miserably. She took a deep breath. “I'm sure those bastards did plenty to you. What matters is that we’re safe here, and we’ll get our alehouse back one day, I’ll make sure of it.” Reaching out, she patted Castiel's shoulder, and he nodded, feeling so relieved he could’ve cried.

Jo crossed her arms against the chill of the night air. “What are you all going to do now?” she asked. 

“We’re going after Dean,” Little John said.

The women stared at him, then Widow Ellen sighed. “Of course you are. But if everyone else looks like you two, that won’t be an easy task.”

“We need horses," Little John said. "We were hoping you could help.”

“I have two in my barn you can borrow,” Pamela said. “And I can go to the neighbors right now and ask them to lend you theirs.”

“We don’t have any money—” Castiel started, but Pamela waved her hand.

“Don’t worry about that. The Hood helped me plenty when I was about to lose my farm. Least I can do is help in his time of need. The others will do the same, they know what the Hood means for us.”

“One more thing,” Little John said. “I’m sure you heard rumors of Dean’s true identity.” The women nodded. “It is true, Dean is a Winchester. He kept it hidden all these years in order to hide from Prince John and his knights.”

“Doesn’t matter who his family was,” Widow Ellen said. “All I remember is the lad who showed up at my doorstep one night. That’s who matters and that’s who needs our help.”

Benny crossed his arms with a sour look when he saw the horses. “Last I heard, townsfolk hated Dean for hiding that he was nobility. Now they want to help?”

“Seems they haven’t given up on Dean yet.” Little John handed the reins to one of the horses to Anna and looked up the road. “Widow Ellen said the knights passed through here this morning. I doubt we’ll be able to catch up with them before Nottingham.”

“Then we ambush them in the city when they try to hang Dean.” Benny looked around as if asking them to argue. 

“But Nottingham will be crawling with knights,” David said, hesitantly. 

Castiel spoke up, “No, it’s the only way. The knights will have their guard down then." He looked at Gabriel and Gabriel nodded. "They probably think they’ve scattered us to the four winds.”

Charlie mounted one of the horses and offered her hand to pull Anna up. “Sounds like a plan to me,” she said. “Quit talking and let's go."

* * * 

Castiel and Gabriel shared one horse and rode off with Will and David, who were also sharing a horse. To avoid suspicion, Little John and Benny took another route with Charlie and Anna. They agreed to meet at Crooked Corner, a part of Nottingham hated among the knights for its rough occupants and, therefore, less enforced by the law. 

They rode fast, stopping only for a quick rest when the sun rose over the horizon. They were on their way again in an hour, too restless and on edge to sleep.

With the speed of how things were happening, Castiel could hardly process what he was doing. All he knew was that it was right. As he held onto Gabriel, riding fast down the road after Will and David, he resisted thinking of what would happen next, what would happen if they failed—no, they wouldn’t fail. That wasn’t even an option. 

Though, truthfully, he didn’t know what would happen if they _did_ succeed. Was he really fit for life as an outlaw? Fit for a relationship with Dean? But he couldn’t bear it if he lost Dean now, not with how they had last spoken, not with the things he had said. 

The sun neared its zenith, the cloudless sky bright blue above them. The landscape grew more familiar; Castiel thought he recognized the area from traveling with the knights to collect taxes. That past life seemed so distant. He could hardly believe he was the same person who'd once cleaned out stables and polished knights' boots, who'd trained to defend Prince John. 

He wasn't certain that he was any better an outlaw than squire, but... this was his life now. His stomach still turned at the memory of killing the foot soldier, but he knew he'd do anything to protect the band. They were his friends now, his family. He knew now he didn't want to leave them.

But there was still so much unsaid between he and Dean, so much he’d promised to bury, to never tell anyone. 

Their horse's hooves clopped loudly in the stillness of the road as Gabriel slowed their pace in the heat of the day. He stayed silent, staring ahead where Will and David rode, and a familiar fear crept into Castiel's chest. So much he'd never told Gabriel. 

As if summoned, his mother's voice rose in his mind, _you ruin everything._

_No,_ he thought desperately, clenching his eyes shut, even as he knew it was true. He knew Gabriel was angry at him for deciding to leave, even if Gabriel did his best to hide it. And he had every right to be angry—Castiel was angry at himself.

_Why do you always ruin everything?_ The voice sent a shiver through Castiel despite the heat from the sun. _I hate you,_ it whispered. _I hate you, I hate you._ He couldn't escape it. No matter what he did. No matter how hard he tried. It was like he was cursed. 

_I love you._ At the memory, Castiel opened his eyes, the bright sunlight stinging them. How could Dean say that? When Castiel had kept so much from him?

He could never get it right. But Dean, Gabriel, the band, they'd accepted him as one of their own. He’d thought he was cursed—so much so, he’d acted like it. He'd expected everyone to turn against him, so he gave them plenty of reason to, turned against them first. But they never did.

“Gabe?” Castiel said. 

Gabriel glanced over his shoulder but didn't speak. Castiel looked down at the ground, at the dust the horse's hooves kicked up. _S_ _he's gone now,_ he told himself. _Gabriel's not her._

“You were right, when you said I’ve been closed off.” He took a deep breath. Dean had given him so much of himself, and Castiel had ignored it. He couldn't make the same mistake again. “The truth is, I came to be a squire because my mother killed herself and my aunt and uncle grew tired of caring for me after two years. They took the first opportunity they saw to send me away.”

He couldn’t see Gabriel’s face, his reaction, but he kept talking, “My mother hated me, and my relatives hated me, and so, I don’t know, I just assumed you did too. But I know that’s not true, you’re my best friend, and I don't want to leave anymore, I want to stay with you and the rest of the band."

"You mean that?" Gabriel turned his head to look at Castiel, his eyes searching.

Castiel nodded. "I do."

Gabriel turned back around. "Well, I'm glad." He let out a sigh of relief. "You know how much I hated having to choose whether to go with you or stay with the band?"

"I know."

"I didn't hate you, Cas. I always wanted to you to stay." He looked over his shoulder. "And, um, I'm sorry to hear that, about your family, and everything."

Castiel nodded quickly. "I'm just glad I'm away from them now. Even being an outlaw is better than what I had." He frowned. "But you, I know this life isn't better than what you had. You only came to Sherwood Forest because of me. I'm the one who dragged you into this mess.”

“You didn’t drag me into anything, Cas. I'm happy to be here—even on the run, on a rescue mission. I came with you because I wanted to make sure nothing bad happened to you. And, besides, I didn’t want to stay in Nottingham without you.”

“I did make life at the castle vastly more interesting,” Castiel said, and felt relieved when Gabriel laughed. He watched the trees pass on the side of the road. "I’m sorry I’ve been I’ve such a dick lately, and I hope that you can maybe forgive me—”

“Already forgiven, Cas.” They ducked under a few branches extending over the road. “Yes, you were a dick, but you’re also my best friend, so… I forgive you." Looking over his shoulder, he grinned and Castiel smiled back.

He tightened his hold around Gabriel in a hug. "Thank you," he said.

* * * 

When the moon hung high in the sky, they spotted Nottingham’s walls rising in the near distance. As they grew closer, Castiel could see the orange light of torches along the city walls, and they stopped riding before they reached the gates.

“We’ll have to wait until morning,” Gabriel said, swinging off their horse. “Gates won’t open until then.” David reined in the horse he and Will were riding and they dismounted. They’d heard from a farmer also traveling to Nottingham that Dean’s hanging was to be held publicly in Nottingham Square the following evening, giving Prince John and other royals time to travel and see the spectacle.

Sitting down, David handed out the food Pamela had given them. Castiel kept glancing at the city walls, reality hitting him now that Nottingham was within view. Less than twenty-four hours and they’d see Dean and do their best to rescue him. He felt a tightness in his chest that made it hard to breathe. 

“I wonder if our mom has heard the news," Will said. "About the Hood’s capture.”

“I think everyone knows by now,” David said. “The city will be packed tomorrow.” 

“She’s going to be worried,” Will said, and fell silent. Castiel realized that, in his focus on rescuing Dean, he’d forgotten how much risk they were putting themselves into. But it didn’t matter. Dean would do the same for any of them.

“Happy to be back home?” David asked Gabriel, trying to be light, as he split a loaf of bread into sections.

Gabriel snorted. “I’ll be happy when I never have to see these walls again.” He took the food David offered. “Hey, Cas, maybe we’ll see good ol’ Sir Bartholomew.”

“As long as he doesn’t see us.” He didn’t have the energy to jest. “What if we get recognized?”

“We’ll keep our heads down. Get in and out, with Dean.”

Castiel nodded, trying not to show his nerves. “Right. With Dean,” he echoed.

Too tired to stay up for too long, they soon laid out in the soft grass to sleep, though Castiel wondered if any of them would be able to. He, at least, stayed wide awake as his mind raced in anticipation for the following day.

So, they would rescue Dean. But would Dean even want to see him again? Maybe Dean had had time to think and now realized Castiel wasn’t worth the trouble.

But wasn’t it Dean who had invited him to Sherwood Forest in the first place, who had told Castiel he loved him, who had asked him, despite everything, to not leave? 

Rolling over, Castiel stared at the pointed silhouettes of the grass. He missed Dean. Terribly. He would do anything for one more night with him, to look in his eyes, to tell him he was sorry. Dean might die thinking Castiel hated him, didn’t love him. And he did love Dean, didn’t he? He'd known for so long.

It was the steady look in Dean’s eyes before he released an arrow, the way he boldly grabbed the bridle of a knight’s horse, his smile before he pulled Castiel to him, the fact that, after losing nearly everything, he had found his way and made a new life, that he saw something in Castiel that Castiel couldn’t see in himself—and Castiel was in awe of him and in love with him. 

And it was frightening to think he would never get the chance to say it.

He didn’t know what would happen tomorrow, if he and Dean would ever again have what they once did, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that Dean lived, that he knew Castiel cared.


	18. The Prison Tower

The walls of Nottingham towered above, blocking the rays of the rising sun, as Castiel, Gabriel, Will, and David approached the gates. Already, the road was crowded with farmers transporting produce to market, merchants and their wares, travelers of all ages. 

Ahead, Castiel could see several knights inside the city gates. “Keep your head down,” he whispered to Gabriel, and Gabriel nodded.

The stream of people headed into the city was slow moving and Castiel wondered how many were here for the hanging. Out of the general commotion and conversation, he caught someone saying, “the Hood,” and looked to his left to see a friar speaking to a bard. 

“They finally captured that son of a bitch,” the bard was saying. “Pardon my language, friar, but he’s a dangerous young knave.”

“Then I suppose you’re here to see the hanging?” the friar asked.

“Well, of course.” The bard gestured all around them, “Everyone’s curious to see the outlaw. You heard, didn’t you, that he’s Dean Winchester? A spoiled brat who decided to masquerade as common folk.”

Castiel saw David riding up ahead turn to see who was speaking. He nudged Will and Will turned to see too.

“I’m sure there’s more to the story than that,” the friar said. “I wouldn’t be so quick to judge.” 

The bard looked around nervously. “I would keep those opinions to yourself, friar.” He eyed the guards as they passed through the gates into the city. “Looking favorably upon the Hood will only bring trouble, even to a holy man such as yourself.” So saying, he pushed his way through the crowds and disappeared down a side street. 

David nudged his horse closer to the friar. “Morning Tuck,” he said with a smile, looking down at him. 

Putting his hands on his hips, the friar looked at David reproachfully. “You should speak to those holier than thou with more respect.” Then he broke into a smile and slapped David’s knee. “David! I should’ve known you’d be here. And Will too, of course.”

“It’s good to see you, Tuck.” David pointed to Castiel and Gabriel. “You haven’t met these two, but they’re new members.” To them, he said, “This is Friar Tuck, an old friend of Dean’s.”

Friar Tuck nodded at them and his face grew solemn. “I’m afraid these aren’t the best circumstances to be meeting.”

“No,” David agreed. “But you’ll be glad to hear why we’re here.”

“Come with us to Crooked Corner,” Will said. “That’s where we’re headed to meet the others.”

Friar Tuck smiled. “I think I can guess what all of you are up to.”

They made their way through the crowds, leaving the wide main road for narrower streets. The streets grew no less crowded, only grimier, and the people pushing past wore less finery. Castiel hadn’t ever ventured down this way, though he recognized the prison towering above the low houses, which seemed to press ever closer on both sides. He stared up at the prison tower and its dark windows, wondering which one Dean sat behind.

The road opened up into a small crowded plaza and they stopped next to a well. “The others should be here soon,” David said, dismounting. 

“Now, tell me what happened and what you all have planned,” Friar Tuck said, gathering his habit around himself and sitting on a low stone wall in the shade, away from the crowds. 

David and Will began explaining, and Castiel looked around the plaza, not wanting to hear the details once again. Besides, though he had seen few knights once they’d ventured into this area, he was still wary that one would appear and recognize him or Gabriel.

“Cas, is that... ?” Gabriel pointed across the plaza and Castiel scanned the crowds. A cluster of people stood around two farmers’ carts, but no knights. He started shaking his head, unsure who Gabriel was pointing to, when he spotted Hannah. 

As he noticed Hannah, she saw him and her eyes widened. Castiel quickly looked away, as if there was anywhere he could escape to, but then Hannah started walking over to them, the basket on her arm swinging. 

“Shit,” Gabriel whispered. 

“She won’t do anything,” Castiel whispered back, hoping it was true.

“Castiel?” Hannah stopped in front of them and stared, as if unsure she could trust her eyes.

“Hi, Hannah,” Castiel said, trying to not sound as nervous as he felt.

Gabriel waved. “Hi.”

Hannah’s eyes flickered to him and back to Castiel. “You two left—I thought you were gone for good.”

“We couldn’t miss the hanging,” Castiel said, aware of how ridiculous it sounded.

Hannah looked around. “It’s not safe for you two to be here.”

“Right, um, we know. We’re trying to keep a low profile. But what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at the castle?”

Hannah indicated her basket. “I’m delivering food to the prison tower, unfortunately.”

Her eyes flicked over Castiel’s shoulder and Castiel turned to see David and Will watching them. “Oh.” He motioned to them. “These are some of our friends that we’ve been traveling with.”

David stepped forward. “A friend from the castle?” he asked and Castiel saw the question in his eyes. Could Hannah be trusted?

“There were a lot of rumors when you two left,” Hannah said.

“Oh, really?” Castiel shifted his feet. The longer this conversation went on, the more nervous he grew.

“One of the squires, Zachariah, I think, said you two joined the Hood.” Hannah studied him and Castiel reddened. The news must not have spread yet to the castle that Zachariah was dead. 

“Ah, Zachariah,” Gabriel said. “He always was coming up with outlandish tales.” 

Hannah crossed her arms. “So where _have_ you two been?”

“Here and there,” Gabriel said casually. “All over the place, really.” He and Hannah stared at each other, then Hannah readjusted the basket on her arm. 

“It is a shame, about the Hood, though, isn’t it?” she said, watching Castiel. “I saw him in the tower yesterday. He hasn’t been treated well, that’s for sure. I guess knowing his identity isn’t good enough, there’s more information they want out of him.”

“He’s the Hood,” David spoke up, feigning disapproval. “You have sympathy for an outlaw?”

“Well.” Hannah looked at her feet. “I don’t know, but I’ve heard things around the castle. I do know much of what is said about the Hood is false.” She looked at Castiel. “I don’t know if those in his band are evil criminals either.”

Castiel thought he understood. “Is there any way you can get me in to see the Hood?” he asked. He saw Gabriel give him a look, but he ignored him. 

Something flickered across Hannah’s face, but she only frowned as if in thought. “I don’t know... they’re not letting just anyone in.” She studied him. “Why do you need to see him?”

So she really wanted to know. Moment of truth. He felt Gabriel tense next to him. “We’re a part of his band.” Hannah didn’t look surprised, which kept him talking, “If I can see him, I can let him know he’s not alone today.” He wasn’t sure he should say outright that they were here to rescue Dean. “You _can_ let me see him, right?”

“Well.” Hannah bit her lip. “I mean, I can. If it’s just one of you. The guards there know me. But if anyone found out…”

“No one will know,” Castiel said. “It’ll be quick, I just want to see him.” He stopped talking at the hint of desperation in his voice.

Hannah nodded slowly. “Alright.” She half turned away. “We have to go now, though. I’m already late.”

Castiel turned to the others. “I’ll be back soon, I’ll meet you guys here.”

Gabriel frowned. “You shouldn’t be going alone.”

“I’ll be careful.” Castiel tried to look reassuring. “I promise.”

“You better be,” Gabriel said eyeing Hannah. “I don’t want to have to rescue your ass too.”

Castiel nodded and turned to Hannah. “Lead the way.”

“So, how long will you be staying in Nottingham?” Hannah asked, as they walked down a side street.

“Not long, hopefully.” Castiel said. He looked ahead at the stone prison tower rising above the houses. Hannah swung her basket, staring down at it. 

“It is false, isn’t it?” she asked and he looked at her. “That he keeps all the money he steals for himself? Kills people?”

“Those are all lies. That’s not him at all. Everyone in the band, they’re all good people. You should see how many people they’ve helped. I wouldn’t be with them if they weren’t.” He remembered how Hannah’s family had lost their land to the Sheriff. “How is your family, by the way?”

“Well, my family moved into a small apartment in Sutton and my father began selling food on the street. I see them when I can. It’s been a rough couple of months.”  
  
“Our band could help. We give all the money we take from royalty to people who actually need it.” He wondered suddenly what the band would do if they couldn’t rescue Dean, horrible thought though that was. Would they continue as usual? He didn’t know if he’d be able to bear it.

“You mean if the Hood doesn’t die today,” Hannah said. She studied him. “But that’s why you’re in Nottingham, isn’t it? To rescue him?”

”Yes,” Castiel admitted because he didn’t think Hannah would believe him if he lied. “We’re going to try.”

They turned out of the alley and Hannah pointed ahead at the prison where a crowd of people stood. “There’s been chaos ever since they brought the Hood.”

The people outside the tower were yelling at the two guards outside the main gated entrance and up at the windows. Castiel looked up and saw figures at the windows grabbing the bars from inside. 

“This way,” Hannah said and Castiel followed her away from the crowd, down a few stairs, and through a stone archway to a wooden door at the back of the tower. 

“Afternoon,” she said to the man guarding the door. 

He nodded at her, then frowned at Castiel. “Who’s this?”

“Servant at the castle,” Hannah said. Castiel nodded, trying to look unoccupied. The guard studied him, then shrugged and opened the wooden door leading into the prison tower. 

Castiel stepped inside the prison first, his eyes taking a few seconds to adjust to the darkness. The guard shut the door behind them and it locked with a screech.

“This way.” Hannah led Castiel through a passageway lined with cells. Narrow windows in the cells let in blocks of light. “I can’t believe you and Gabriel really joined... you know who. Balthazar said he wouldn’t be surprised if you had.”

“He did?” Castiel looked at her. “You know Balthazar?”

In the low light he saw her blush. “Umm, well. We courted for a time after you left—” She looked at him quickly. “Not that your leaving has anything to do with it.”

Castiel frowned. Then the realization of what Hannah meant hit him and he reddened too. “Oh. I’m sorry, I never realized—”  
  
Hannah shook her head. “It’s alright, it doesn’t matter now.” Their footsteps echoed in the stone interior. “I can’t blame you for leaving the castle. It was bad enough without prison duty.”

“It is quite depressing in here.” Crossing his arms against either the temperature or his nerves setting him on edge, Castiel looked into the small cells they passed. Some had straw mats, but many were only stone and dirt with a bucket in the corner. Most were occupied by men, though, in one, he saw a woman holding a small child on her lap.

“You got any gruel?” someone called from inside a cell.

“Sorry,” Hannah said, not pausing in her walk. “Supper’s not for several more hours.” Cursing rang out through the passageway, and Hannah said to Castiel, “The prisoners on this level are mainly tax evaders.”

“How long do they stay here?”

“Until they can pay, I guess.” She turned into a doorway Castiel had almost missed and they went down several steps. “Down here is where they keep the real criminals. There were supposed to be two hangings today, two murderers, but they’ll be held off until tomorrow. The Sheriff really wants to make an example of the Hood.” Stopping at the base of the steps, she pointed down the curving corridor. “Few cells down to the left.” Castiel’s stomach turned as he looked down the hallway and realized this was where Dean was kept. 

Hannah stepped up one of the stairs. “I need to bring this food to the upper level. If anyone asks, you’re with me. I’ll come back for you.”

Castiel nodded and, with a deep breath, headed down the hallway. It was colder, mustier, and, in the absence of windows, torches spaced along the wall washed the grey stone in orange light and cast wavering shadows. 

His footsteps echoed and he heard chains rattle. A figure crouched in the back of a cell to his right raised his head as Castiel walked by. “Pretty boy,” he sneered. His chains grated as he moved closer to the cell bars. “What’re you doing down here?”

Castiel walked faster, his heart pounding. The corridor curved so the steps to upstairs were no longer in sight. He looked into every cell on his left, growing more worried, and then he stopped short. 

Dean sat against the back wall of a cell, hunched over with his knees pulled up to his chest. A manacle clamped on one wrist shackled him to the wall.

“Dean?” Castiel asked, hesitantly stepping forward, a fear suddenly rising in him that he shouldn’t have been the one to come. That Dean would have rather seen one of the others in the band.

Dean lifted his head slowly like it was too heavy for him and stared at Castiel for a moment before his eyes widened. “Cas?” he asked. 

“Yes, Dean, it’s me.” Castiel crouched down to be at Dean’s level and Dean crawled forward until he was stopped by his chain. 

In the low light, Castiel could see bruises along Dean’s face. His tunic was ripped and muddy, his hair mussed, and Castiel felt an ache in his chest at how weak he looked. “I’m so sorry, Dean,” he started in a rush, “We should’ve stopped the knights, we should’ve never let them capture you.”

“Don’t apologize, Cas.” Dean leaned against the wall, the chain around his wrist scraping the ground, and winced. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Even as exhausted as he looked, he managed a smile.

“We’re all here, the whole band. We’re going to rescue you, I promise. They’re not going to hang you tonight.”

“I knew everyone would come.” Dean looked down at his hands, the manacle around one making his wrist bloody and torn.

“What did they do to you?” Castiel asked. He sat on the ground and touched the cold bars of the cell.

“Sheriff wants to know who’s in the band, if we’re stowing away any money.”

“Tell him our names, Dean. Don’t let them torture you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve made up plenty names. There’s now a Miranda and a Timothy in our band.” He grinned and Castiel looked away, unable to see the way Dean still managed to be so blithe in the midst of everything.

“I did ‘fess up to being a Winchester,” Dean continued. “Figured it can’t hurt now. They asked about Samuel, but I didn’t tell them anything.” He leaned his head back against the wall, expression falling. “Can’t imagine what he’s thinking now.” Castiel heard echoes of footsteps above them and looked to the left, down the corridor.

“Dean, I have to tell you something, in case—”

“No, Cas. Please don’t say that.” Dean shut his eyes for a moment and, when he looked at Castiel, his eyes were serious.

“Well, I need to say it anyway.” Castiel ran his finger down one of the cell bars. “I’ve had plenty of time to think and there are things you need to know about me, because I want you to know. I want you to know me.” He met Dean’s eyes. “And I’m sorry I could never tell you before. I’m sorry for a lot of things.”

Dean only watched him, quiet, and Castiel took a deep breath. “My mother killed herself because of me. She hated me because becoming pregnant with me, having me, ruined her life. Everyone whispered about her, stared at her when we went into town, and she blamed me. She tried to kill me.”

The memory of that night threatened to overwhelm him once more but Dean had to know. “She came into my room one night to kill me, but I woke and stopped her.” His voice hitched and he swallowed, breathed. Continued. “And then she went and hung herself. I found her that morning.” He pulled his hands into his lap and dug his nails into his palms. “I drove her crazy, everyone said so.”

“Cas,” Dean said. Castiel studied the way the cell bars met the floor, the rust and dirt gathered at their base. “You’re not to blame, how could you be? You had no control over her.”

“My relatives hated me too,” Castiel said quietly and wiped at his face. “They couldn’t wait to see me gone. And I’m sorry, Dean, I’m so sorry for how I treated you. I know you trusted me, even though I don’t know why—I say the wrong things, or don’t say the right things... I wanted to say I love you back, but I couldn’t, I don’t know why—”

“Cas, hey.” Dean held out his free hand and Castiel reached through the bars to take it. Dean’s hand was cold as he gripped Castiel’s. 

“Whatever your mother said about you, and your asshole relatives, you know it’s not true. You’re good. Look at me, Cas.” Castiel raised his eyes to Dean’s and Dean squeezed his hand. “You’re a good person. You’re not cursed.” Castiel blinked, surprised Dean had heard, had remembered. “You expect everyone to turn against you, but I won’t. I promise, _I won’t._ ”

Castiel could feel his heart’s pulse in the hand Dean was holding, or maybe it was Dean’s pulse. He looked into Dean’s eyes and tried to let himself believe what Dean was saying. Maybe he was good, maybe it was true, maybe he could believe it. 

Dean looked down at their hands. “I thought you’d never want to see me again. I thought _I_ would never see you again.”

“I had to see you,” Castiel said and tears filled his eyes. “I couldn’t leave you. I’m so sorry I ever said I’d leave you.” Dean met his eyes. Castiel remembered standing in Nottingham, staring up at Dean with a flutter in his chest, so unaware of how much this archer would come to mean to him, and, yet, knowing, somehow, how everything could change if he took a chance. “I’m in love with you, Dean Winchester. And I have been for a very long time.” Dean watched him and Castiel felt nearly breathless with the recklessness of the confession. Of the truth.

“I love you, Castiel,” Dean whispered.

Footsteps sounded to Castiel’s left and he looked up to see Hannah hurrying over. “We’ve got to go,” she said. “The knights are on their way for him.”

Castiel looked at Dean. Dean smiled a little, though Castiel saw the fear hiding in his eyes. “Look for us in the crowd at the gallows,” Castiel said, clinging to Dean’s hand desperately. “We’ll be there, _I’ll_ be there.” 

Dean nodded. Castiel didn’t want to let go of Dean. Let the knights find him here, let them hang him too. But he had to join the others. They had to save Dean. “I love you,” he said again, not caring that Hannah was standing there. 

“I love you, too,” Dean said. He held onto Castiel’s hand for a moment longer, then let go.

Castiel stood and walked away before his resolve left him. Hannah glanced at him, a peculiar look in her eyes, then she looked away and led the way out of the corridor. 

Castiel followed, glancing back once at Dean’s cell, fighting the urge to run back to him. His throat tightened at the thought of leaving Dean alone and he wiped at his eyes. If Hannah noticed, she didn’t say anything. 

When they reached the door leading to outside, Castiel looked at Hannah. “Thank you so much for letting me see him,” he said.

Hannah nodded, and opened the door. “Guess this is goodbye.” 

Castiel nodded and stepped outside. Hannah started to speak, then shut the door with a clang.

Taking a breath, Castiel paused a moment, trying to compose himself. The sun shone overhead and the warmth settled on his shoulders, settling him after the chill of the prison. _You’re not cursed._

The sounds of people screaming obscenities grew louder as he walked towards the front of the prison. Knights were entering the prison, guards holding the crowds back. 

With a final glance back at the tower, Castiel steadied himself and plunged down a side street leading back to the plaza. He would see Dean again. He was going to rescue Dean... or die trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random fact: in my first draft of this story, Cas was Robin Hood and Dean was a commoner. It was a shit show of a draft bc the characters just never seemed right, and I’m so glad it changed because I love this version so much better. Anyway, one week of posting left :)


	19. The Hanging

Crowds began filling Nottingham Square long before the scheduled hour of the hanging. Guards pushed avid spectators back from the gallows’ elevated platform and away from the seating reserved for nobility. Castiel, Gabriel, and David found a place to stand to the left of the gallows, close enough to see the trapdoor under the thick, twisted rope hanging from the scaffolding. Castiel scanned the crowd to avoid looking at the gallows. His stomach turned at the way the crowds laughed and talked. Some spread blankets on the ground to share a meal, as if they were waiting for a traveling minstrel show and not an execution.

David scowled at the people jesting around them. “These bastards,” he muttered. 

Gabriel nodded. “You said it.”

At least everyone around them was occupied in their amusements and in watching the main road for the Sheriff’s arrival; Castiel had been worried the weapons they held would attract unwanted attention. Earlier, when preparing to come to the square, Benny had approached him holding Dean’s bow and quiver.

“Here,” he’d said, and held them out.

“No, I couldn’t—” Castiel started.

“Just take it. I have my own bow and I can’t be bothered carrying another. Maybe you can manage to put it to some use.” Castiel took the bow and quiver and looked down at them. The strap on the quiver was frayed with use and he ran his thumb over the twisted, curved wood of the bow. “Anyway," Benny added, "Dean would want you to have his bow."

"Thank you," Castiel said, looking up at him.

He nodded and started to walk away, then hesitated. “We won’t let him down,” he said. 

Now, David waved across the square to where Will, Little John, and Benny stood to the right of the gallows. Will waved back, and Castiel looked behind them to where Charlie and Anna had headed. In the close pack of people, however, he couldn’t see them.

A pair of knights passed by, and he quickly ducked his head, but they were too busy complaining about the increasingly raucous crowds to pay him or Gabriel any mind. They weren’t wearing any armor, which meant they weren’t expecting a fight today. That, at least, Castiel figured, would play out in his and the band’s favor. 

He watched them as they walked away, trying to remember their names, when he realized they were leading a prisoner.

“Allan’s with them,” he said, grabbing Gabriel’s arm and pointing. One of the knights led Allan to the left of the gallows and made him stand there, his hands tied behind him. 

“Think they’re going to hang him?” David asked.

“No, they’ll want to use him to capture the rest of us,” Gabriel replied. Castiel watched Allan hang his head and felt a twinge of pity for him amidst his anger at Allan’s betrayal. 

“Looks like the squires got the day off,” Gabriel said. Castiel looked to see a cluster of them across the square. He spotted Michael and Balthazar and wondered what they thought of the Hood's capture. “How much do you wanna bet those fuckers will take off at the first sign of trouble?” Gabriel asked him. He started pointing squires out to David, recounting his annoyances and exploits with them.

Feeling restless, his nerves making him tense and jittery, Castiel kept looking around at the crowds. Then he frowned. _Was that...?_ He scanned the crowd again. To his left, standing against one of the houses bordering the square, was Bobby, and, next to him, Samuel.

“Stay right here,” Castiel told Gabriel and David. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where’re you going?” Gabriel asked, but Castiel was already pushing his way through the spectators. 

“Samuel!” he called when he got close, and Samuel pulled his eyes from the gallows and searched the crowd. Castiel saw him catch sight of him, his eyes widening. He tugged on Bobby’s arm and Bobby turned to look at Castiel.

“So, you’re here too,” he said, sounding tired.

Castiel stopped in front of them. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “We were ambushed in Sherwood Forest, everything happened so quickly.”

“Couldn’t believe it when I heard the news,” Bobby said. He gestured to the crowds, to the gallows. “Had half a sense to not even come. This spectacle, this show, it’s too goddamn much—” He broke off, shaking his head.

Samuel spoke up, “What about Little John, and Benny, and—” 

“We’re alright, we’re all alive. Actually,” Castiel stepped closer and lowered his voice. “The whole band is here now. We’re going to stop the hanging.”

“All of Nottingham is here today, lad," Bobby said, "You’re risking your lives.”

“We have to try,” Castiel said. “It’s what Dean would do for any of us.”

Bobby sighed. “You’re right.” He shook his head. “You’re right, he would.”

“When you hear our signal, flee,” Castiel said. “I’m sure it’ll be chaos.”

“But I can help too!” Samuel grabbed his bow from his and Bobby’s packs lying at their feet. 

“Now, hold on,” Bobby started. 

“I saw Dean earlier today,” Castiel said. “He’s thinking about you, Samuel. He’d want you to stay safe.”

"You saw him? Is he... is he alright?" Tears rimmed Samuel’s eyes, and Bobby put a hand on his shoulder.

Castiel nodded, suddenly not trusting himself to speak. He wished he could promise that they would rescue Dean, that everything would be alright, but all he could do was try to look more confident than he felt.

He turned back to the crowd and Bobby called his name. Castiel looked back at him. “When this is over," Bobby said, his gaze steady, "when Dean is rescued, we’ll meet you in Sherwood Forest.”

Castiel nodded.

* * *

When the sun hovered over the city walls, the crowd grew quieter, restless. Castiel felt the weight of Dean’s bow and quiver across his chest. He gripped his cudgel in his hands and glanced at Gabriel, who gave him a reassuring smile.

The gallows cast a long shadow across the ground and the knights paced in front of it. It seemed absurd, so twisted, that this was the place where Castiel had first seen Dean. Spotted him across the square in an archery contest. If he had only known what would happen… he would choose this life again, choose Dean. Of thathe was certain.

The sound of a horn alerted him to the approach of knights on horses. The crowds turned as one to watch the procession, led by the Sheriff of Nottingham in full regalia, ride into the square.

Someone began clapping and then everyone was applauding. Gabriel crossed his arms and frowned. Castiel had seen the Sheriff around the castle and it seemed that wherever he went, fanfare followed—though that was more from his insistence than a natural response from anyone.

The Sheriff looked quite proud of himself, though he stared straight ahead and didn’t acknowledge the cheering crowds. Two carriages followed him and came to a stop in front of the seating for nobility. A Baron and his family, who Castiel did not recognize, dismounted from the first, and then Lady Marian from the second. She stared out over the crowd for a moment, then pulled her veil over her face.

“She was engaged to be married to Dean Winchester before he disappeared,” Castiel heard someone in front of him say. He looked up at Lady Marian again and watched her seat herself behind the gallows. What a different life Dean would have had if Prince John never killed his father and he remained nobility. He wondered what Lady Marian’s reaction had been learning the Hood was once her betrothed.

Cheers grew louder and Castiel looked back at the main road to see the royal carriage entering the square. Prince John alighted when the carriage came to a stop and, though the fanfare never quieted, Castiel could see more people frowning and whispering to their companions.

He ignored Prince John, however, and watched the stone archway through which the procession of nobility had come. It was now that a horse-drawn cart appeared, prompting a wave of jeering and yelling to sweep through the square.

The cart drew closer and Castiel stood on his tiptoes trying to see over the heads of the people in front of him. In the cart, kneeling with his hands tied behind him and a chain around his neck securing him to the cart, was Dean. His head was bowed, but, as the crowd grew louder, he lifted his head and looked out at the crowds. There was a defiant look in his eyes, but Castiel knew he couldn’t be so brave as he acted. There was a fresh wound on his forehead, blood trickling down the side of his face, and David swore under his breath.

The tightness in Castiel’s chest returned as he watched the cart halt in front of the gallows and two knights unchain and unceremoniously drag Dean out of the cart. Dean stumbled as the knights pulled him up the stairs to the gallows. They led him to the middle, on top of the trap door, and looped the rope around his neck. Then they stood back, leaving Dean standing there, alone, in the eyes of everyone.

The crowd screamed curses and protests, but Dean’s expression remained steady. Anger burned inside Castiel at the crowd’s taunts and he gripped his cudgel.

The Sheriff rose from his seat and a heralder called for silence. Smiling serenely, the Sheriff began to speak in a high nasally voice,

“Today, we bring justice to our land. Myself and our brave knights have captured the outlaw called the Hood, formerly known as Dean Winchester, son of the Duke of Winchester. He is a despicable knave, whose family sought the throne for themselves, and he has been stripped of all titles and land. He has brought terror to Nottinghamshire as the one who dared question Prince John’s authority and rule, who threatened our society and well-being, who murdered and pillaged, and will now be punished to the highest degree for his villainous actions!” His voice had risen during his speech and the crowds erupted into applause and cheers.

Seating himself again, the Sheriff nodded at the executioner standing on the gallows. His heart pounding, Castiel looked towards where he knew Little John and Benny stood, though he couldn’t see them. Almost time now. Gabriel tapped his cudgel on the ground and David pulled his bow off his shoulder.

Dressed in all black, his face covered, the executioner stepped forward and produced a scroll. Reading from it, he announced, “Today, we pronounce Dean Winchester guilty of the crimes of murder, highway robbery, hunting of our Lord’s deer, and other offenses against our Lord, which are too numerous to be named.” Castiel thought he saw a smile tug at Dean’s mouth, and he felt a pang of pride seeing Dean refuse to cower even under the dire circumstances. 

The executioner cleared his throat. “Dean Winchester is henceforth sentenced to hanging until dead. Let it be known, among all, that so it goes for any who disobey Prince John, rightful ruler of our land.” 

So finishing, the executioner rolled up the scroll and tucked into his belt. The crowd remained quiet, and Castiel waited, not breathing. The executioner took a step towards the crank to release the trapdoor and, then, from where Little John and Benny stood, came the long, shrill blast of a bugle.

At the signal, David drew his bow and released an arrow. It hit its mark and the executioner stumbled, the arrow in his gut. He fell off the gallows and the square erupted into pandemonium.

Running forward, Castiel pushed his way through the fleeing crowds. One of the knights standing on the platform rushed forward and grabbed Dean’s arm, but was felled by an arrow to the chest. The second knight drew his sword and received an arrow to the arm. Townsfolk ran in all directions and Castiel nearly lost his footing, but he ducked and shoved his way to the gallows. The nobles hunkered down in their seats. Knights surrounded them and tried to herd them into the carriages. The Sheriff waved his arms and barked orders. An arrow whistled past Prince John’s head and just missed the Sheriff, making him yelp and leap to the side. 

Breaking apart from the crowds at the base of the gallows, Castiel saw a knight pull Dean out from under the rope and yank him to the gallow stairs. Grabbing an arrow from Dean’s quiver and lifting the bow, Castiel aimed at the knight. People rushing past jostled him and he tried to steady himself, took a deep breath, aimed, and released the arrow.

The knight stumbled forward, an arrow in his shoulder, and Dean stepped back to let him tumble over the side of the platform. Slinging Dean’s bow over his back, Castiel rushed forward only to have his way blocked by two knights. He drew up short and lifted his cudgel, then Little John and Friar Tuck barreled out of the crowd. 

“Go!” Little John yelled, striking one of the knights to the ground with his cudgel. Dodging the fallen knight, Castiel ran to the gallow stairs. A knight ran up them ahead of him, then faltered with a cry of pain as an arrow lodged itself between his shoulder blades. Castiel looked behind him to see Charlie draw another arrow from her quiver. Dean kicked the injured knight down the stairs.

“Dean!” Castiel called. He grabbed the fallen knight’s dagger and stepped over him to run up the stairs. 

“Cas! Just in time!” Dean said, grinning as Castiel reached his side.

Castiel grabbed Dean’s arm and cut his bonds. “Are you alright?”

“Never been better.” Dean winced as the ropes fell from his wrists, but he eagerly took his bow and quiver from Castiel. “Nice shot back there,” he said, notching an arrow. He scanned the people below and let the arrow fly. Castiel saw it strike the Sheriff as he tried to mount his horse. The Sheriff roared in pain and fell off the saddle. 

“Come on,” Castiel urged and grabbed Dean’s sleeve. They ran down the gallow steps and hesitated at the chaos before them. Prince John threw himself into his carriage and it raced away, the door swinging open wildly. Castiel spotted Sir Bartholomew falling to the ground, fleeing townsfolk trampling him in their haste.

“If we make it out of this...” Dean started, notching another arrow to his bow. Castiel gripped his cudgel tighter and tried to find a path through the fleeing crowds and frenzied knights. “I’m gonna marry you.”

Castiel pulled his focus away from the clamor and met Dean’s eyes. They were completely sincere and his chest warmed.

Reaching out, he took Dean’s hand. “We’re going to make it.”

Dean smiled and squeezed his hand before letting go. “Then let’s get out of here.” Castiel nodded and they ran into the fray.

Yells, curses, thuds of boots on the ground, and the neighing of horses surrounded Castiel. He pushed his way through a sudden cluster of fleeing townsfolk and bumped into the Baron, who shoved a young woman aside to get to his carriage.

A knight ran towards Castiel and Dean, swinging his sword. Castiel parried the blow and kicked him in the knees. The knight stumbled and Castiel struck him across the head, sending him to the ground. Dean let loose several arrows and grabbed Castiel’s sleeve, pulling him aside before a knight thundered past on a horse. The knight lifted his crossbow and shot at them and Castiel ducked. Dean shot back.

Through the thinning crowds, Castiel saw Gabriel and David still together. David shot an arrow, striking an oncoming squire in the stomach. “This way!” Castiel yelled and he and Dean ran towards them. 

In an instant, their way was blocked by three knights. Castiel looked behind them at the chaos around the gallows. They were surrounded. 

“Fuck,” Dean cursed. “I’m all out of arrows.” He strung his bow over his shoulder and grabbed a sword lying on the ground. Castiel focused on the knight closest to them, then someone ran out of the fleeing crowd and tackled the knight. They struggled on the ground and Castiel looked away just in time to duck a sword swung at his head. He struck the attacking knight in the side and was preparing to hit him again when a blow across the back sent him to the ground.

His head smacked the dirt as the air was knocked out of him. He managed to roll over and escape the downward slash of a blade. Looking up, he realized Sir Ishim was towering over him holding a sword. Sir Ishim swung again and Castiel lifted his cudgel, barely managing to block the blow.

“You traitor!” Sir Ishim yelled, swinging his sword again against Castiel’s cudgel with a crack.

His head throbbing, Castiel tried to get to his feet, but Sir Ishim swung again, and Castiel fell back to the ground. The knight’s blade shaved off splinters of his cudgel and sliced across his shoulder with a sharp sear.

“You’ll die for your treachery,” Sir Ishim sneered and made to swing again. Castiel lifted his cudgel, preparing for the blow, when Allan appeared and hit Sir Ishim on the back of his head with the handle of a sword. Sir Ishim crumpled.

Allan held out his hand and pulled Castiel to his feet. 

“You?” Castiel panted, realizing it was Allan who had tackled the first knight. He bent over, gasping for air. 

Allan looked sheepish. “Looked like you needed help.” He glanced over Castiel’s shoulder, and Castiel turned to see Dean struggling to fight off another knight.

The knight kicked out Dean’s knee and Dean fell to the ground with a yell. His sword clattered to the ground and he tried to grab it, but the knight kicked him in the chest, shoving him onto his back.

”Dean!” Castiel yelled, starting forward as the knight plunged his sword down. Just in time, Dean rolled over to escape a blade to his heart.

Before the knight could pull his sword from the dirt, Castiel struck him across the back and knocked him down. The knight tried to rise and Castiel sent him back down with a blow to the head.

“Are you alright?” he asked, grabbing Dean’s arm and helping him stand. Dean nodded breathlessly and Castiel looked around for David and Gabriel. “We need to get out of here.” He started tugging Dean away, but Dean paused.

“Allan?” he asked.

Allan stood watching them, looking scared. ”I never meant for all of this to happen—“ he started, then flinched at the sound of yells from across the square. “I’m sorry, truly, but I have to...” He looked back at them. “I have to get out of here.” Before Dean could speak, he ran off towards a side street leading away from the square.

“Was that Allan?” someone yelled. Castiel turned to see Benny riding a horse up to them. 

“It’s not worth it, Benny, let him go.” Dean looked at the fleeing Allan. “He’s already sorry enough.”

“Well, let’s get a move on, then,” Benny said, pulling up the reins on his horse to turn away.

Castiel looked around and saw David pulling Will up onto a horse. The crowds had dissipated into the adjoining streets and the royal carriages were long gone. The Sheriff was nowhere to be seen. But there were still plenty of knights left, many who were heading towards them.

“Castiel!”

At his name, Castiel turned, disoriented, and spotted Hannah riding up to them on a knight’s horse. “What are you doing here?” he asked as she reined in the horse.

“I was watching from afar and I saw what was happening.” She swung down and thrust the reins towards him. “Take this horse and go, there are more knights coming.”

“Thank you.” Taking the reins he looked behind him at Dean. Dean grabbed an arrow out of a body on the ground. “Dean, come on!” he called. “We got a horse!”

Dean ran over and Castiel mounted. “Get the Hood out of here,” Hannah said. “We need him.” Castiel nodded and pulled Dean onto the horse behind him.

“You really should join our band,” Dean said, looking down at Hannah.

She smiled a little. “Goodbye, Castiel,” she said, then ran off. 

“A former lover?” Dean asked and Castiel could hear the grin in his voice. Wrapping one arm around Castiel’s waist, he asked, “Where’s Little John?”

Castiel looked across the square. “There,” he said, pointing to the gallows where Friar Tuck and Little John kept a few knights busy. 

“Little John!” Dean called. He raised his bow and shot the knight Little John was fighting. The knight grabbed his leg and fell to the ground. Catching sight of them, Little John whooped and struck down another knight, then started running towards them.

Castiel heard yelling and looked to their left to see Benny riding a horse in between Gabriel and a knight, telling him to get on. Charlie and Anna rode past them on one horse, then David and Will. Anna yelled back at them, “We need to leave, _now_!” 

Friar Tuck and Little John had found horses. Everyone was accounted for. Castiel saw Hannah grab a horse’s reins and send it down a side street away from the few knights left who were looking for rides to follow. 

Dean wrapped his arms around him. “Let’s go.”

Castiel snapped the horse’s reins and Dean held onto him as the horse galloped across the square. Townsfolk pressed themselves to the sides of the street as they raced past, some, it seemed, cheering. Up ahead, where the open city gate revealed the road leading out of Nottingham, guards scrambled at their approach.

“They’re closing the gates!” Dean yelled. The metal bars began to lower, then a commotion ground them to a halt. Charlie and Anna passed through the gates, then David and Will, their horses’ hooves pounding the dirt of the road.

Castiel saw a guard grab his arm, an arrow protruding from it, and step away from the crank which closed the gate. Beyond the city, on the side of the road, Samuel sat on a horse behind Bobby, holding his bow. 

“Sammy!” Dean whooped as they raced through the city gates. He looked back at Bobby and Samuel. “Follow us!” he yelled.

They rode hard down the road, dust kicked up under their horses' hooves. Castiel chanced a glance at the receding city walls. Bobby and Samuel followed behind them and the city gates had slammed closed, stopping a few knights who tried to follow. 

Charlie cheered up ahead and Benny yelled, “We did it!”

Castiel looked ahead at the dusty road and the land spread before them. Dean started laughing and giddy relief flooded Castiel all at once, a smile spreading across his face. Wind roared in his ears and Dean held onto him tighter and, ahead, the sun sank into the forest, its dark boughs, their home.


	20. Epilogue

_~six months later~_

Dean and Castiel meandered through the trees of Sherwood Forest in the late afternoon light. Castiel held Dean’s hand and looked up at the clear, blue sky. In between the pads of their footsteps and the calls of birds overhead, he caught the trickling of the river.

Reaching a place where the distance between the trees grew, Dean marked off a towering oak and walked a few paces off. Castiel leaned his quiver against a tree and watched Dean choose an arrow.

“Today’s the day,” Dean said, raising his bow. “Not having second thoughts, are you?”

“I _was_ considering turning you in to the Sheriff for the reward.” In the months since rescuing Dean in Nottingham, the reward for the Hood and his merry men’s capture had only increased, but so had the Hood’s fame. No common folk would help the Sheriff capture the Hood, and word had it even the knights were loath to go up against the band.

Dean laughed and shot at the target. Castiel looked at the bullseye and sighed. 

“Can’t you let me win for once?” he asked, stepping up to take his turn. 

“Not going to happen.”

Raising his bow, Castiel sighted the target, then released the arrow. At the thunk, he lowered his bow to see his arrow had struck a few inches above the center of the mark. 

He looked back at Dean and Dean shook his head in mock-disappointment. “Is it too late to back out now?” he asked, and Castiel pushed him. Dean grinned and fit another arrow to his bow.

Castiel stepped back to let him shoot. “That’s not even the damn target,” he said when Dean’s arrow narrowly missed splitting his arrow in two, shredding a feather from the end and lodging itself right against it.

“I thought you liked that trick.” 

Castiel couldn’t help a smile. When he raised his bow, Dean touched his elbow and pushed it back. “Keep your arm in line,” he said.

Rolling his eyes, Castiel aimed at the mark. He felt Dean's hand on his side, slipping to his waist. "Don't distract me," he admonished, preparing to shoot. In response, Dean slid his hand to his crotch and groped him, startling him into releasing the arrow. It flew in a sideways arc, landing to the right of the tree. 

“Shit! Dean!” he exclaimed, turning on him.

Laughing, Dean raised his hands, stepping back as Castiel tried to grab him. “No, no, you still have to hit the target. I won’t interfere, I swear.”

Snatching up an arrow from his quiver, Castiel fit it to his bow and shot at the tree. He heard the arrow strike but didn’t wait to see how close he'd gotten to the mark, already setting his bow down.

“Much better attempt,” Dean commented, fighting back a smile. “Much better than that misfire.”

"Come here," Castiel insisted, trying to wrap his arms around Dean. "Archery practice is over."

Dean fought him off playfully. "Not until you admit I won," he teased.

"No." Tugging Dean to the ground, Castiel clambered on top of him and pinned him down. "I won," he said, looking down at him.

“You know, I think we’re supposed to wait until tonight.” Dean's eyes crinkled at the edges in a smile.

“I don’t want to wait.”

Dean grabbed his tunic, pulled him down to kiss him. Castiel kissed him back, then the crack of a twig close by caught his attention. 

Breaking their kiss, he looked at the trees around them. “I think someone’s coming.” 

“Who’s there?” Dean called, holding onto Castiel’s arm.

From within the trees, someone replied, “Sorry.”

Castiel pulled himself off Dean to sit on the ground. Dean sat up and Charlie stepped out of the trees, one hand over her eyes. “Everyone’s decent, right?” she asked, grinning.

“Yeah, uh, just give Cas a moment to—”

“No, shh, stop,” Castiel put his hand over Dean’s mouth. “Charlie, you’re good.”

Charlie dropped her hand from her eyes, looking amused. “Sorry to interrupt… this, but Samuel and Bobby just arrived.”

Dean stood, brushing grass off his clothes, and offered his hand to Castiel. “Great,” he said. “Guess we’re all set then.” He smiled at Castiel. “Time to get married.”

* * *

“Dean!” Samuel called when they walked into the glade. A dog raced to them and Samuel followed close behind.

“You brought Sir Galahad?” Dean said, hugging Samuel. Castiel reached down to pet the dog he now recognized as Samuel’s pet.

“Of course,” Samuel said, letting go of him to hug Castiel. “He hadn’t seen the glade yet.” 

Bobby walked up and shook Castiel’s hand. “Today’s the day. Took you boys long enough.” 

Castiel smiled; Dean had proposed to him officially two months ago, while the band was still evading the Sheriff and his knights. 

“That’s my fault,” Dean admitted. “I wanted everyone to be able to come.” He waved across the glade to Widow Ellen and Jo.

“And to get married in the glade,” Castiel added. After months of wandering the surrounding area and forest, trying not to stay in one place for too long, the band had returned to the familiar glade and to roaming the forest freely when the Sheriff returned to Nottingham to help enforce Prince John’s rule. It seemed that nowadays the knights were having more difficulty in getting the common folk to follow Prince John’s laws. 

Widow Ellen and Jo made their way over. “There’s some new faces here I don’t recognize,” Jo commented, looking around the glade.

Castiel nodded. “We’ve had a couple more people join us recently.” 

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to them,” Dean said and walked Jo and Widow Ellen over to a new member, Eileen, who was helping clear the area in front of the oak tree.

Someone grabbed Castiel’s shoulders and he turned to see Gabriel. “You excited?” Gabriel asked, grinning.

“I can’t believe it’s finally happening,” Castiel said.

“Friar Tuck has been driving me nuts all day, practicing speeches,” Charlie said, walking over. She bumped Gabriel’s shoulder. “When’s it gonna be you and David’s turn to tie the knot?” 

Castiel laughed at how red Gabriel turned. “You and Anna have been together longer,” Gabriel protested.

“Don’t give her any ideas,” Charlie said, smiling. She looked over at where Anna was stringing a flower chain across the oak tree’s boughs.

“Go get changed.” Gabriel gave Castiel a shove. “It’s almost time.”

Castiel headed to his and Dean’s tent. In the middle of the glade, David stood at the bonfire, making Hannah try the stew for probably the hundredth time that day. Hannah caught Castiel watching and rolled her eyes at him.

“No, it’s great, really, I mean it,” she told David.

Dean was now introducing Widow Ellen and Jo to Aaron, another squire, who’d left the London castle and joined them only a week ago and had yet to be inducted. Castiel couldn’t help but smile, Dean’s excitement infectious. Being back in the glade, being with everyone, it all seemed too good to be true. _But it’s real,_ he told himself, almost giddy with the thought.

When he had changed into a clean tunic and emerged from their tent, he saw Dean heading over. “Feels good to be back in the glade,” Dean said, stretching his arms out to encompass the clearing. “Perfect spot for a wedding.”

“It’s all perfect,” Castiel said, smiling up at him.

Dean touched Castiel’s clothes. “Guess I should change too, got grass stains all over this one, no thanks to you.” 

“Will finished the new tunics yesterday,” Castiel said and Dean grabbed the tunic from inside the tent and straightened. 

“Damn Little John,” he said, holding it up. “I guess this is how they’ll tell who’s in our band.” Little John had gone into town to get fabric for clothing for the band and had come back with three times as much fabric as needed, all in Lincoln green. He hadn’t been able to live it down, though he protested that he didn’t know a mite about clothing and shouldn’t have been trusted with the errand in the first place.

“It looks good on you, brings out your eyes,” Castiel said. 

“Oh, well, in that case.” Dean grinned and ducked inside the tent. 

“Are you sure you want to marry me?” Castiel asked, standing outside. “You could always find Lady Marian, convince her to take you back. She might do it, you know.” 

“When are you going to let that go?” Dean asked, voice muffled from inside the tent, and Castiel laughed. He saw everyone gathering at the oak tree and felt a nervous flutter in his stomach.

Dean came out of the tent and Castiel reached up, smoothing Dean’s hair down. “I have a surprise for you,” Dean said. “Tomorrow we’re heading to the waterfall and we’re going to stay there for a few days, just the two of us.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah, Little John can take care of everything while we’re gone.”

“That’ll be nice,” Castiel said. He lowered his hand to touch Dean’s face.

“Come on you guys!” Benny called from the oak tree where everyone was waiting.

Dean waved off Benny good naturedly, and Castiel felt something rise in his chest, an emotion he'd never thought he could have. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was. 

Looking back at him, Dean smiled. “Ready?" 

* * *

They spent that night celebrating both Dean and Castiel's marriage and the band's return to the forest. Castiel looked at everyone around the bonfire, the orange light illuminating their faces. Charlie stood and waved her arms to better describe a story she was telling, Anna and Little John frequently interjecting details. Gabriel and David were whispering to each other, and Samuel had fallen asleep against Sir Galahad's side. A breeze stirred Castiel's hair and wafted the smell of burning cedar throughout the glade. Beyond the fire’s glow, the dark trees stood stately and serene.

He looked at Dean, sitting close by him, his thigh pressed against his own. Catching his eye, Dean smiled at him and wrapped his arm around his waist to pull him closer. Castiel smiled back. He'd never been so happy. And, for once, no voices whispered that it would end, no doubts rose that made his stomach churn.

Dean pressed a kiss to Castiel's forehead. "I love you," he whispered.

“I love you more,” Castiel replied, and he could feel Dean’s smile against his when he tilted his head to kiss him.

A log in the fire crumbled, sending up sparks, and Castiel watched them rise, tumble in a breeze, and wink out against the sky, felt a warmth in his chest towards Dean like nothing he had ever felt for anyone else. He leaned his head against Dean’s shoulder and they sat there long into the night together, in the middle of the deep forest surrounding them, holding them close.

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (and they lived happily ever after)
> 
> it took me forever to push the post button for this chapter. i didn't expect to be so sad about completing this fic :(( but im also happy bc writing and posting has been a wonderful time. 
> 
> i've been working on this story since february (6-ish months?!) so it's been a looong process, but i'm very glad to have this story out in the world. if you read this fic, you are my favorite person ever so thank you :)
> 
> i'm always working on other projects (i currently have around 10 wips bc i like to keep things chaotic) so stay tuned, and you can check out my tumblr [here](https://expectingtofly.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> thanks again for reading :)


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